


Heart and Soul

by burbear, super0random0girl



Series: Heart and Soul, the series [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AKA it's not perfect but I tried as hard as I could to make it still fit the AU, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Author Does Not Like Howard Stark, Author Does Not Like Odin, Biting, Blood Drinking, Bromances everywhere, Dragon!Tony Stark, Faery!Bucky Barnes, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hozier reference, Irish Folklore, Irish Folklore - Freeform, Loki and Bucky are science nerds, Loki is crazy, Loki/Bucky in a Bucky-adopted-him sort of way, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Queer used in a neutral-to-positive way, Real Men talk about their feelings over alcohol and ice cream, References to Abuse, References to Sex Work, Sarah rogers dies, Semi-Canon Compliant, Siren!Steve Rogers, Soulmates, Star Trek References, Steve Cannot Listen to Directions, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony/Steve in a they-adopted-each-other way, bromances, gay slurs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-15 21:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11814408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burbear/pseuds/burbear, https://archiveofourown.org/users/super0random0girl/pseuds/super0random0girl
Summary: “It’s the people who hurt innocents that he hurts and kills. Because he’s kind like that.”Sarah nodded again, adjusting Steve’s blankets in preparation to keep moving. “And why do we think that he is so kind?” she asked playfully.“His soulmate is Good and carries half of his Heart, so Saxon’s soulmate influences his heart into Goodness,” Steve answered dutifully. “And since Saxon has a Heart, it means that Saxon is a Soul and his Heart will live for as long as Saxon will.” Sarah nodded. Just as she was leaving, Steve piped up again. “Do you think that I’m a Heart? Do you think that I’m still alive because my Soul is still alive?”Or, a siren and a trickster walk into a bar and find out they’re soulmates.





	1. An Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Art by [shutupimcreating](http://shutupimcreating.tumblr.com/), [here](http://shutupimcreating.tumblr.com/post/164334995872/bucky-smiled-at-him-for-a-moment-may-i-kiss) and [here](http://shutupimcreating.tumblr.com/post/164336222757/steve-smiled-all-right-buck-whatever-you-say). Find me on tumblr at [nykolwinters.tumblr](nykolwinters.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Like and/or share the masterpost [here](http://shutupimcreating.tumblr.com/post/164338107913/heart-and-soul-by-super0random0girl-tumblr).

  
  


Bricriu, a young trickster faery standing only at knee-height, stumbled through bushes to find a dark haired woman cleaning weapons. Badhbh looked up from her seat on a boulder.

“You seem to be lost, little one,” she said. Bricriu stood, gaping, before kneeling himself as low as possible. He knew a goddess when he saw-- and felt-- one. Then again, even someone whose magic was completely dormant could feel the power radiating off of the woman before him.

“I am,” he said. “For-forgive me.” The goddess cocked her head.

“And where are your dam and sire?” she asked.

“Gone,” Bricriu admitted. “I don’t know where.”

“You need a dam,” she told him. “You’re still a child.” Bricriu swallowed. “What is your name, lad?”

“Bricriu,” he said. Badhbh studied him.

“I am your dam now, Bricriu,” she said. 

And that was that. Bricriu grew under the guidance of the Triple Goddesses in every form. When he was deemed old enough, his aging was slowed to fit someone of his station.

Bricriu, known sometimes as Bran in honor of his adopted mother, Breannain, or, eventually, Buchanan, became a well-known and a fairly well-liked Supernatural in Ireland; his name eventually spreading to Scotland, then England, and Wales. Young ones were warned that anyone who misbehaved would be stolen and eaten by a handsome man in the night. Young men were cautioned to keep their hands to themselves lest Bricriu find out and punish them in the most painful way possible. Young women were assured safety by the stories of the enforcer. Old men and women were guaranteed a good story to tell, kind and charming company, and a little extra money in their pockets if the fae-god stopped in for a visit.

The stories spoke of a dark haired, light eyed man, but no one was sure if those descriptions were true, as a few stories differed. It was obvious, though, that Bricriu possessed a beauty that outshined that of other fae. 

It was also clear that his charm was not just from his magic, nor was his kindness just from his upbringing.

They said that the trickster travelled the hills because he hadn’t found his Heart among the Gods or the Fae. They said that his Heart would be found elsewhere, in a race of Supernaturals known for their kindness and love. A Good race. Every Heart, and some Souls, dreamed that they would grow to find that Bricriu was theirs. All of them were disappointed.

Decades passed, and then centuries, and then millennia. Bricriu became Buchanan whenever he was prompted for his name. While he was loved, he was not loved enough and became unofficially sainted as Saint Saxon. He wasn’t even a Saxon, dammit.

Somewhere around the 15th century by the Christian calendar, Buchanan took on an apprentice he met in Scotland. The boy, who would have been around ten were he a normal boy, was shy and quiet, but intelligent and a good fighter. Like Buchanan and Badhbh, Buchanan and the Nordic lad met in the forest as the younger of the two had gotten lost. Buchanan accidentally snuck up upon the child and scared him when he spoke.

“My apologies, little one,” Buchanan said, half-heartedly forcing down a smile. “But you seem to be lost.”

The boy, definitely a trickster, studied Buchanan, looking far too stern and old for his age. “And if I am?” he said. Buchanan cocked his head.

“If you are, I will help you find your way home,” he answered.

“How?” the boy demanded.

“Magic. For a small price,” Buchanan said. The boy narrowed his eyes.

“Your price?” he asked, suspicious.

“Your name,” Buchanan responded easily.

“And I would have yours in return,” Loki stated. Buchanan bowed his head.

“I am Buchanan, most often,” he said.

“I am Loki,” the boy- Loki, apparently- said after a moment’s hesitation. “There is a cave, somewhere near here. It will take me home.” Buchanan narrowed his eyes.

“You are of another realm,” he concluded with a smile. Loki nodded.

“Asgard. I seem to have done a little too well in my escape attempt,” he admitted. Buchanan laughed.

“As you have, laddie,” the older trickster said. “Come along, then. Before I leave you behind to continue on east.” Loki followed, still frowning.

“Where were you going?” the ravenet asked. Buchanan raised his eyebrows.

“Probably Wales. England’s being rude, Ireland and Scotland are just a mess, and I’ve spent far too much time in this mud puddle,” he explained. “Though England and Ireland have the strongest earth magic, so maybe not Wales.” Loki nodded.

“Could you teach me Midgardian magic?” he asked. “I only know magic from Asgard and Vanaheim, but I want to know more.”

“I suppose. I ought to teach you how to find your way back first, I think,” Buchanan said, nodding. He glanced down at the boy. “I should probably do that sooner, rather than later, yeah? Want to learn before you leave?” Loki lit up.

“Would you?” he asked. Buchanan nodded. “Many thanks to you!”

Over the next two decades, Loki would visit wherever Buchanan had stopped to rest. His skills grew quickly, though he aged slowly. The two grew closer and closer with each lesson, and Buchanan took Loki in, mother henning him at every possible chance.

And so, as expected, when Loki was late for his last visit, a very worried trickster fae ended up pacing the floor. Finally, three hours late, Loki appeared.

“Forgive me, Buchanan,” he said, bowing over and unintentionally allowing Buchanan to see the blood stains on the back of his neck and shirt.

“All is well if you are, Loki,” Buchanan said. “Come closer.” Loki warily moved nearer, then allowed Buchanan to move him however the fae wished. Buchanan lifted Loki’s shirt to find wounds from a whip, and bruises from what was probably a boot, a fist, or some other blunt force. “What is this?”

“I-... I upset the All-Father,” Loki said quietly. Buchanan sighed, pressing his fingers into Loki’s skin and healing the boy’s body.

“Is this why you were late?” Buchanan asked, and received a nod in return. “Then you will stay here. I will not allow this pain to go on. You may return home if you wish, but I will train you no longer if you leave. Do you understand?” Loki nodded again. “So, what is your choice?” The boy was quiet, and looked around.

“I… I will stay, Buchanan,” Loki said. “I will stay with you.” Buchanan nodded, moved Loki’s shirt back into place, and turned the boy back around.

“We ought to get you some supplies, then, yeah?” he said. Loki nodded again, and the two set off together. Loki grew up, learning magic, how to feel for his Heart, and how to survive on his own for when he bored of Buchanan’s tendencies to stay around his homeland. Such boredom plagued him fairly often, unsurprisingly. The little trickster was even worse than Buchanan.

~*~

“I’m fine, Ma,” Steve grumbled, from his bed, voice hoarse.

Sarah pursed her lips and sighed through her nose. “This is not fine, Steven Grant,” she scolded. Adding just a hint of magic to her Irish brogue, she added, “Now to sleep with you.” 

Steve continued to grumble as a wave of drowsiness washed over him. “At least tell me a story,” he begged.

Sarah raised her eyebrows before sitting down next to him on his bed. “All right, then,” she said. “Saint Saxon, I suppose?” Steve nodded excitedly, though most of the excitement was held in his eyes, and not his illness-weakened nod. “Well, let’s see. What shall I tell you about the great Irish Trickster that could thrive with or without other Supernatural? Shall I tell you more about his knowledge and wisdom and wit? Or… shall I tell you of his beauty? That’s always a fun topic.”

“Tell me about him and Saint Patrick again,” Steve demanded. Sarah smiled.

“Well, long ago, Saxon was the only one keeping the sins and demons of all of Ireland at bay,” Sarah began. “But Patrick showed up and began doing his holy work. Saxon went to face this holy stranger, prepared for a power-hungry Englishman, but, when Saxon first laid eyes on Patrick, he realized what Patrick truly was. Saxon and Patrick cleared and cleansed Ireland together, with the help of some Good tribes and clans.”

“Like the ones with people like us!” Steve cut in, making Sarah smile again.

“They were helped by many clans made of Supernaturals, and many clans were headed by Irish Sirens,” she agreed. “Do you remember why?”

“Because an Irish Siren’s duty is to protect his or her own, to lead them, and to care for them,” Steve recited. “Not like European Sirens because… they’re like deadly Incubi and Succubi.” Sarah nodded. “Not like Mediterranean Sirens because… they sing sailors to their deaths. And… not like Eastern Sirens because… they… they… oh! They’re like trickster fae, except they don’t use blood or life magic.”

“Do trickster fae always kill?” Sarah quizzed him.

“No,” Steve answered after a moment. “They only need blood and… it’s usually a... pleasant experience, which is what makes them dangerous.” Steve continued, sure of himself, “They’re vengeful, though, and will kill when they see fit. Which is why it’s normal that Saxon kills.”

“Mhm,” Sarah hummed. “But the difference between Saxon and other trickster fae is…?”

“He forgives those who wrong him easily,” Steve said, at ease with this bit of knowledge. It was one of his favorite things about Saint Saxon. “It’s the people who hurt innocents that he hurts and kills. Because he’s kind like that.”

Sarah nodded again, adjusting Steve’s blankets in preparation to keep moving. “And why do we think that he is so kind?” she asked playfully.

“His soulmate is Good and carries half of his Heart, so Saxon’s soulmate influences his heart into Goodness,” Steve answered dutifully. “And since Saxon has a Heart, it means that Saxon is a Soul and his Heart will live for as long as Saxon will.” Sarah nodded. Just as she was leaving, Steve piped up again. “Do you think that I’m a Heart? Do you think that I’m still alive because my Soul is still alive?”

“Yes,” his mother admitted. “I have no doubt that you have a Soul who’s working hard to keep you alive. Now go to sleep.”

“Yes, Ma,” Steve murmured, shutting his eyes and forcing his body to relax. He purposely didn’t imagine what it would be like to be Saint Saxon’s Heart; He didn’t imagine what it would be like to be held by beautiful, strong, and beautifully strong arms. Steve wasn’t like that. He couldn’t afford to be.

Steve grew up lonely, sort of. Around his 16th birthday, he was introduced to Queer Brooklyn, the neighborhoods guarded by Supernaturals and open to homosexualists and any race. Those neighborhoods were the only ones safe from the “normal” people, whose Supernatural genes had gone dormant. Most of his work was found in Queer Brooklyn, as were most- if not all- of his friends. Sarah didn’t fully approve, for fear of his safety, but she had to admit that Queer Brooklyn made their lives easier.


	2. Meet-Cute, featuring Death

Steve was scared when he first realized that his mother was going to die. He ended up slipping out, a worn jacket over his thin shoulders, and heading out to see what Queer Brooklyn could do for him. He aimed for Fae’s, a speakeasy-turned-queer-and-racially-mixed-bar. It was completely illegal, and one of Queer Brooklyn’s best-kept secrets.

Once inside, Steve wove his way through the tables, smoke, and jazz to the bar. Stella, a cute little witch who ran the bar with her husband, smiled at him from where she was serving drinks. Once she was done with the group, she moved over towards him.

“You got enough work, babe, or you lookin’ for it?” she asked. Steve gave her a half-hearted smile and pulled his jacket tighter around himself.

“I’ve got enough work,” he told her. “It’s… um, my mom’s real sick right now.” Stella’s face fell in sympathy. “She isn’t going to make it.”

“Oh, honey,” she said quietly. “What’chu want? Something strong? Something to knock you out for a bit?” Steve shrugged.

“Just something small. And maybe a distraction,” Steve answered, glancing around. He had seen everyone before, had kissed a good handful of the women, slept with most of the men and a few women. He was known well enough, and liked well enough, because he knew how to project good feelings. It came with being a Siren.

“You know,” Stella said, leaning towards him a bit as she mixed his drink. “There’s a new boy here. Seems Irish. Some kind of faery.” Steve smirked.

“Human fairy or faery faery?” he joked. Stella huffed and rolled her eyes.

“Oh, hush, you. Real faery, also kinda like the human kind of fairy,” she said. Steve smiled at her as she slid over his drink.

“Where am I headed?” he asked, and she nodded towards the far corner.

“He’s been sittin’ and watchin’ mostly, though he’s gotten up and danced some, too,” she said. Steve nodded his thanks, took his drink, and began looking for someone he hadn’t seen before.

The mystery man sat at one of the back tables, with his back straight and his eyes scanning. He had brown hair, neatly brushed. Steve could tell that he had a strong jawline and long eyelashes, too, even from a distance. When Steve’s eyes met his, a dirty smirk spread across cherry red lips. He shifted, becoming more open. As he sat down, Steve saw the bright, happy mischief that lit up the man’s eyes. Trickster Fae, probably Irish, from what Stella said.

“They send their prettiest local?” the trickster asked.

Steve involuntarily blushed. “Nah, just me,” he replied. “Where you from?”

“All over,” the man answered. “Mostly Ireland. Name’s Bucky.”

“Steve,” Steve said. “Irish Trickster Fae, then?” Bucky grinned.

“Good eye. I’m guessin’ that you’re a Siren, then? Irish, of course,” he said. Steve nodded. “Only a Siren could be so pretty.”

Steve blushed again. “So what’s an Irish Trickster doin’ in Brooklyn?” he asked.

Bucky hummed, closing his eyes and tipping his head back. “You feel that?” Bucky said after a moment. “The life force. The heartbeat. The magic.”

“I guess. I’m more used to it,” Steve said. “My ma talks about it sometimes.”

Bucky slowly opened his eyes. “You don’t feel that much just anywhere. There are a couple spots in Ireland and Scotland. But in Europe… you’re lucky if a country has one spot that’s half as good with magic,” Bucky explained.

“You travel a lot?” Steve asked after some silence.

Bucky smiled softly and shrugged. “Yeah. I got the means, I figure, why not?” he answered.

Steve nodded. “Favorite place?” Steve said.

Bucky smiled at him. “Fae’s, in Brooklyn,” he said. “See, I found this cute little Siren that looks like he’d be real good at kissin’.”

Steve blushed and ducked his head. “I’m not cute. Or little,” Steve complained.

Bucky grinned. “Nah. You’re damn sexy,” Bucky said, then paused for effect. “And I’ll bet that you’re pretty big.” Steve’s blush darkened and his eyes got wider. His mouth worked as he tried to come up with a response, but ended up with nothing. Bucky grinned. “You all right, there, Stevie?”

“No!” Steve hissed. “You can’t just say stuff like that!”

Bucky laughed. “Come on, you ain’t no virgin. Don’t tell me that you ain’t heard shit like that before,” he responded.

“Not in public!” Steve said.

Bucky smiled at him for a moment. “May I kiss you?” he asked. Steve swallowed, looking Bucky over again before nodding.

The kiss was chaste, only a brush of the lips, but there was a little spark, like a bomb going off in Steve’s chest. The two pulled away to look each other in the eye. Bucky’s pupils were blown, and Steve knew that his were likely just as bad. However, Bucky looked definitively more… aggressive, as if he wanted to devour Steve in that very spot.

  


“So, um,” Steve began, licking his lips. Soulsoulsoulsoulsoulsoulsoulsoul was all his mind could comprehend.

“I want to kiss you again,” Bucky growled.

“Okay,” Steve answered easily. With that, Bucky pounced, pulling Steve closer by his hips until the blond was in Bucky’s lap. A gentle hand cupped Steve’s jaw as angry lips claimed Steve’s own. It didn’t take long for Steve to run out of breath, though, and he had to pull away. Bucky, apparently, took this as an invitation to move his lips across a bird-fragile jaw and down Steve’s neck.

“Bet you taste so good,” Bucky whispered. For a second, Steve considered sassing him with something along the lines of, “Haven’t you tasted me enough?” but he decided that he’d rather feel the yet-unknown pleasure of teeth sinking into his more vulnerable flesh.

“Why don’t you try me, then?” he asked. For a second, he wasn’t sure if Bucky would really bite, but then the Trickster’s teeth were slowly being dragged across his skin until they settled and pressed in.

Steve could feel Bucky’s teeth, especially his canines- fangs?-, but nothing hurt. He didn’t know what it was, but the pleasure was intoxicating. Steve wasn’t sure if he was moaning, but he could definitely feel Bucky moaning against his skin. The Trickster’s teeth forced more and more blood to leak so that he could suck it up.

When Bucky finally pulled away, he cleaned up the bite with his tongue and closed the wound with his magic. Steve took the time to think, spotting the brunet’s normal-looking teeth when he smiled.

“How come your teeth aren’t all pointy?” he asked. “They felt pointy.” Bucky laughed.

“Retractable,” he explained, opening his mouth to show a longer, sharper set of teeth coming out and disappearing again.

“Huh,” Steve murmured. Bucky smiled at him, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

“My pretty little Siren,” he said. “You seem off-balance. I think you ought to be getting home.”

“‘m fine,” Steve grumbled. “And I’m not little.”

“I took a lot from you,” Bucky responded. “You should rest.”

Steve pouted for a moment. “Walk me home?” he asked, putting just a touch of magic in his words.

Bucky laughed. “Of course, doll,” he said.

~*~  
Over the next few months, Steve and Bucky saw each other fairly frequently. Sometimes they met up at Fae’s, sometimes they passed in the street, and sometimes Bucky found Steve in an alley with his fists up and ready. This time, it was the latter.

“Can’t you stay down?” McCarthy, a bully since childhood, asked.

“I can do this all day,” Steve replied, raising his fists again and staggering a bit. McCarthy laughed just as Bucky was passing. He paused, looked down into the alleyway, took in the situation, and then gave Steve a Look. Only then did he begin walking closer.

“Pick on someone your own size, man,” he called. McCarthy turned around, an arrogant smile across his lips.

“Who says?” he asked. Bucky’s fist immediately went flying, connecting beautifully with McCarthy’s jaw.

“Down in one,” Bucky said, stepping over McCarthy as he lay on the ground, clutching his jaw. Steve made a face.

“I had him on the ropes,” he complained.

Bucky only smiled. “Explains why it only took one,” the Trickster said.

Steve huffed and led the way out of the alley. “Suckup,” Steve grumbled.

Bucky gently bumped into Steve’s side. “I try,” he said.

And that was how it usually went. Bucky wasn’t overly fond of Steve’s more violent tendencies, but he enjoyed playing hero and getting a kiss for it. Well, at least a kiss. Usually more.

Steve found out more about Bucky, yet didn’t find out anything. He learned that Bucky’s birthday was March 10th, and that he was close friends with another Trickster, who was Nordic and named Loki. He learned that Bucky liked baseball and stadium dogs. He even learned that Bucky was highly intelligent, and that he loved to read and write. But he never learned Bucky’s full name, or where in Ireland he was from, or what exactly Bucky did when they weren’t together, or even how Bucky managed to fund his travels.

Sarah Rogers was worried, but dying.

~*~  
The Day came just after Steve returned from a Dodgers game that he’d attended with Bucky. Steve pressed a kiss to Sarah’s forehead once he walked in.

“I’ll get dinner ready,” he told her. “It won’t be long.” Sarah gave him a tired smile.

“It never is,” she replied. Steve went to the kitchen, throwing together a quick dinner for them to share. Carefully, he carried everything out and sat next to the bed, the vibes in the air suddenly all wrong.

“Ma?” he said softly. He checked her pulse and her breathing, finding neither. In a trance, he went and told Mrs. McLaughlin down the hall, then returned to his place next to his mother. He stayed in his seat, even as they took her body away. He continued to sit throughout the night, without eating or sleeping. The next morning, Bucky slipped into the room and immediately wrapped Steve in a hug. That was all it took for the dam to break, making Steve sob in his Soul’s arms.

It took a few hours for Steve to calm down, but he did eventually run out of tears. He moved to Bucky’s other shoulder to get away from the wet spot, and forced himself to relax. Bucky placed a kiss on Steve head before finally speaking up.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” he asked. Steve shook his head. “Well, I love you a lot. I’d do anything to make you happy.”

“I love you too,” Steve whispered, returning a sentiment that neither of them had spoken of before. He could feel Bucky smile as the Trickster’s grip tightened without really hurting.

“I will be with you until the end of the line,” Bucky swore.

“End of the line,” Steve replied, his emotional exhaustion finally pulling him under.

~*~

Steve had planned on the funeral being small, but Sarah Rogers was a precious being in Brooklyn’s eyes, and everyone who could be there was there. Bucky had arrived with another man, the both of them dressed to the nines. They hung back until everyone else had left, then separated so that Bucky could approach Steve and the other one could… go do something else.

Bucky stopped next to Steve, facing the smaller man as Steve stared at the coffin. Together, they stood in a solemn, patient silence.

“You know I’m here for you,” Bucky whispered. A smile flickered across Steve’s face before disappearing again.

“‘Til the end of the line,” he murmured. “Trust me, I know.” They returned to silence for a few minutes before Steve was able to turn away from the coffin and into Bucky’s presence. He wanted to hug his Soul, but it was too dangerous. “Who was with you?”

“That was Loki,” Bucky explained. “I’ve told you about him.”

Steve nodded. “Can we go home?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, punk,” Bucky answered. “Walk or teleport?”

Steve was quiet as he thought. Bucky’s extensive magic kept either of them from really having to walk, but… “I’d rather walk,” Steve said. “It’ll give me time to think.” Bucky jerked his head towards the sidewalk, and slowly led the way back to the apartment. It wasn’t until about a quarter of the way home that Steve spoke up again. “Mrs. McLaughlin mentioned that there’s been a spike in the deaths around here recently.”

“Oh?” Bucky said.

“Yeah. But they’ve all been bad people. Gangsters and stuff mostly,” Steve explained.

“That’s good I guess.”

“It started just before we met.”

“Really?”

“Cut the shit, Buck.”

“How exactly do you want me to cut shit?”

“... You ever heard of Saint Saxon?”

“That fucking name,” Bucky growled, suddenly in a much worse mood. Steve raised his eyebrows, prompting Bucky to continue. “I ain’t no saint, and I ain’t no Saxon.”

Steve snorted. “So?” Steve prompted again.

“So… yeah,” Bucky said, suddenly calming himself. “Didn’t know that people still told stories about me.”

“My Ma did, at least,” Steve told him. After a moment, he added, “Explains why you do what you do. Charm people but also help ‘em. Most don’t do that. You’re always happy to punch someone for me.” Bucky chuckled.

“Any Trickster with you as a Heart would do that,” Bucky pointed out. Steve shrugged.

“Maybe,” was all he said.

After a bit, Bucky spoke up instead. “You think I’m a good guy or a bad guy?” he asked.

“Good guy,” Steve responded immediately. “You do too much good to be bad.”

Bucky snorted. “I only do good ‘cause you’re leadin’ my heart,” Bucky said.

Steve smiled. “I’m only alive ‘cause you’re takin’ care of my soul,” Steve said in return.

Bucky bumped his arm into Steve’s shoulder lightly. “I’ll take care of you and your soul so long as you’d love me,” he whispered. Steve grinned and ducked his head and they headed up the steps to the apartment. By the time they reached the door, the happy mood had disappeared, as they both realized that Sarah wouldn’t be inside waiting. “Want me to stay the night? We can put the couch cushions on the floor, pretend it’s a bed.”

Steve shook his head. “I can take care of myself, Buck,” he grumbled.

“But you don’t need to. I’m here ‘til the end of the line.”

“I know, but I need to be alone right now.” With that, Steve went inside, and Bucky was left to find his way back to where he and Loki were staying.

~*~  
Bucky had been on his way to meet up with Steve when an argument in an alley attracted his attention. Knowing Steve’s habits, he slowed and peeked in to find Steve in another fight. Bucky took care of it as quickly as he could and literally kicked the guy’s ass to get him away. He and Steve went through their usual routine- grumpy with a chance of kisses- before making their way back out onto the sidewalk.

“We gotta get you back and cleaned up, Stevie,” Bucky said. Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Oh? We going somewhere?” Bucky pushed a newspaper to Steve’s chest.

“We, along with our dates, will be going to the future,” he explained.

“Our dates,” Steve repeated, his voice empty, making Bucky shrug.

“Loki and one of his gal pals. You get the gal pal,” Bucky said.

“Because that will turn out so well.”

“It will for you.” Bucky winked.

“Are you planning on making yourself jealous?”

“Yup.”

“... You’re nuts, Buck.”

“It’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

“Your love drives me absolutely wild, doll.”

“I-… I’m done with you.”

“This doesn’t look like the end of the line.”

“Oh, shut up.”


	3. Serum

Steve and Bucky were a bit late to picking up Loki, as “Connie,” and Bonnie. It wasn’t really Steve’s fault though, because Bucky had been hungry and was looking really good in that suit. Loki shot them a dirty look while Bonnie wasn’t paying attention, but no one mentioned it otherwise.

The Expo itself was beautiful. Steve knew that Bucky was into technology, and that Loki probably was too. Steve found parts of it aesthetically pleasing, but he’d never been interested in most of this stuff. As long as it was helpful, Steve was willing to use it. Otherwise, he didn’t care. Bonnie seemed interested in Bucky, but little else, with “else” including Steve.

The quartet finally stopped to see Howard Stark present his “flying” car. As the man went through his speech, Steve offered Bonnie the popcorn he’d bought. Bucky would have a fit if Steve ate all of it alone, but Bucky was also distracted by Howard Stark, a flying car, and Loki. Bonnie barely spared Steve a glance and a mildly disgusted look, as if he were dirt on her shoe or a rat scuttling across the street.. Steve took a moment to try to figure out what he’d done wrong before turning around and making his way out of the crowd.

It took a minute, but Steve managed to find his way back to the little setup he’d seen in passing. Steve took a deep breath, then walked closer, then found himself looking at a mirror, with the top of his forehead looking at him from the collar of a military uniform.

“You really gonna do this again?” Bucky asked from behind him. Steve turned.

“Well, it’s a fair,” Steve replied. “I’m gonna try my luck.”

“As who?” Bucky hissed. “Steve from Ohio? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.”

“I’m healthier than I’ve ever been before!” Steve hissed in return. “Look, I know you think that I can’t do this…”

“This isn’t a back alley, Steve,” Bucky said. “This isn’t the old land where no one would blink at some magic here and there. This is a modern war!” He lowered his voice. “I ain’t even gonna fight in this one! The mortals are going nuts, Stevie!”

“I know it’s a modern war,” Steve said. “You don’t have to tell me. What else would it be? Old fashioned, for old times’ sake?”

“Dammit, Steve,” Bucky said. “Look, why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs here. You could lead the work force. Keep up morale on the homefront!”

“By what? Collecting scrap metal in my little red wagon?” Steve asked.

“Yes! Why not?” Bucky said. “And that’s not all!”

“I’m not going to sit in a factory, Bucky,” Steve told him. Bucky immediately began shaking his head. “Bucky, come on! There are men laying down their lives. I’ve got no right to do anything less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”

“Right,” Bucky huffed. “Cause you’ve got nothing to prove. Just…” Bucky paused. “Lo’ and I will poke around a bit in the old lands. See if you should bother, all right? Don’t do anything stupid ‘til I get back.”

“How can I?” Steve asked. “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”

Bucky grinned, then tugged Steve into a tight hug. For a brief second, Bucky’s teeth touched Steve’s neck, not biting down, before Bucky pulled away. “You’re a punk,” he stated surely. He threw a tight smile in Steve’s direction, then went to find Loki.

“Jerk,” Steve mumbled.

~*~

The following days were a bit complicated. Steve left a note for Bucky (or Loki) to find at Fae’s. Then, he went through the magic he knew to prepare himself for bootcamp, which would be a rough experience. The Healer, Dr. Erskine, had warned him as such. From there, Steve was off without a proper goodbye to his Soul.

Steve, in the end, was chosen. Agent Carter, a gorgeous woman made of condensed feminine power, was always there, making Steve’s knees go weak. But Bucky was in Europe, making sure that the war would be won by the Allied Forces. Steve couldn’t forget about his amazing Soul.

~*~

Steve ended up riding through Brooklyn with Agent Carter to the place where he’d receive the Serum. He was so panicked and anxious that he was almost calm and relaxed. He recognized a few storefronts and was then able to identify where he was.

“I know this neighborhood,” he noted. “I got beat up in that alley. And that parking lot. And behind that diner.”

“Did you have something against running away?” Agent Carter asked.

“You start running, they’ll never let you stop,” Steve explained. “You stand up, push back. Can’t say no forever, right?”

“I know a little of what that’s like,” she said. “To have every door shut in your face.”

“I guess I don’t know why you’d want to join the army,” Steve said. “Most beautiful women don’t spend time working in a man’s field. Most smart women don’t waste their time with idiots.”

Agent Carter stared at him with raised eyebrows and a hint of a smile at the corners of her lips. “And are you one of the idiots?” she asked.

Steve thought about it. “That’s what a lot of people say,” he answered.

“You have a strange way of speaking to me,” Agent Carter said. “You recognize that I’m a woman, you tell me that I’m beautiful and smart, and yet you speak to me as if I were your equal.”

Steve frowned. “Is that bad?” he asked. “Cause I don’t usually speak to women in public settings.”

Agent Carter’s eyebrows rose higher. “No, that’s fine,” she told him. “It’s simply unusual.” She paused before continuing. “If you don’t usually speak to women in public settings, when do you speak to them?”

Steve’s cheeks flushed. “In, um… more… private, illegal settings,” he admitted.

Agent Carter turned to face forward at a bit away from Steve. “And here I thought you were a gentleman,” she murmured under her breath.

“Never said I was the one paying,” Steve grumbled in reply. This earned him a dropped jaw and a look of surprise. “Money was tight and someone was always sick,” he explained a bit louder. “I did what I had to.” This seemed to have gotten him some forgiveness, but the car had just pulled up to the curb.

“Well,” Agent Carter said with a huff. “You keep getting more and more interesting. However, you have a procedure to go through.” Steve gave her a tight smile.

“That I do,” he said.

~*~

After everything-- the procedure, the pain, Dr. Erskine’s death, the chase, Steve was sent home for a bit. There, he found Bucky waiting, pacing. The trickster turned the second he walked through the door. Steve could see his breath catch as he took in Steve’s changed body. Bucky took a hesitant step towards him, grief flooding his features.

“Stevie, doll, what… what have they done to you?” he asked. Steve looked down at his new body, one he’d been proud of until Bucky had said that.

“A Healer… he made me bigger. Stronger.” Better, Steve wanted to add, but he knew that Bucky would get even more upset. Instead, he said, “Healthier. No more asthma or heart trouble or anything. He made me as powerful physically as I am magically.”

Bucky seemed to relax a bit, but he still touched Steve’s chest with a sad sort of caution. His hands slowly roamed across Steve’s body as Bucky’s magic did the same. He eventually pulled away slightly, nodding. “And what did it cost you?” Bucky asked.

Steve looked down again. “It was supposed to cost some time fighting overseas,” he explained.

“But?” Bucky prompted.

“But the Healer died, and so I’m the only super soldier,” Steve said. “Only one soldier means no army of super soldiers. Which means that I’ll be used for propaganda.”

Bucky’s face fell again, before resuming its battle-prepared look. “You’re a siren. You lead armies,” he stated. Steve only shrugged, making Bucky huff angrily. “You deserve more than prancing around and telling people to spend their money on death.”

“The more money they put in, the shorter the war will be,” Steve said.

Bucky pursed his lips. “Then you’re gonna make them put all their goddamned money into the war. See if that doesn’t push people to give you a position you fucking deserve.”

Steve smiled. “All right, Buck. Whatever you say.”

“Damn right,” Bucky growled, tugging Steve closer and going for his now much more meaty neck to get a taste of that beautiful, metallic red.

  


~*~

Steve had never realized how hard it was to reign his magic in. He let it flow for the crowds, but tried to keep from getting too strong once he realized how easily the people-- women, especially-- were swayed. He wanted them to buy war bonds, not grab his ass when they were waiting for his autograph.

Bucky, of course, found this hilarious… right up until he saw it for himself and ended up as Steve’s intimidating bodyguard standing in the background.

A lot of the showgirls Steve worked with seemed to attempt to resist his magic, so Steve tried to reign in his magic as much as possible around them and act bashful and awkward when they tried to talk to him. It didn’t quite solve the issue of the girls avoiding him, so Bucky took it upon himself to make them like Steve.

The train that was carrying the group stopped at a station, giving Bucky an opportunity to get on without raising any eyebrows. Steve sat with the girls in an uncomfortable quiet, since the Hitler actor decidedly did not like Steve and spent his time with the band.

“Hey, handsome,” Bucky said, smirking. Steve looked up, surprised, as Bucky sat down next to him and propped his legs up on Steve’s lap.

“Hey yourself,” Steve responded before suddenly realizing that all the girls in the car could see that Bucky was about ready to devour the super soldier. A blush spread across his cheeks.

“Who is this?” one of the girls asked.

Bucky threw a confident smirk at her. “I’m the reason none of you girls gets to grab his ass,” he said.

“Bucky!” Steve hissed, his flush getting worse.

“Steve!” Bucky mimicked, then winked and relaxed against the wall next to the back of the seat. “Ain’t nobody going to tell, right?” Bucky turned to the girls, who looked between the two before nodding.

“It’d be a shame to see Captain America go to jail,” another girl said, sounding more like a warning than a statement.

“It’d be a shame for Captain America’s boyfriend to go to jail for trespassing,” the first girl said.

Bucky laughed. “That it would,” he said.

~*~

 

After a time, they sent the group overseas to perform for the soldiers. Steve had an awful feeling about it, but Bucky quickly made him forget about his worries.

Their first stop was in Italy. All that Steve and the girls were told was that they needed to pick up morale. Another bad feeling stirred up in Steve’s stomach, but it was too late, and they were on the move.

Bucky was waiting when Steve rushed into the tent after the performance. Steve paused for a moment before stumbling his way into Bucky’s arms. Bucky gripped him hard until Steve seemed to relax.

“They all hated me,” Steve whispered. “My magic… it couldn’t change that. Not really.”

“Something must have been throwing you off,” Bucky said. “Like your worries that they would hate you.” Steve huffed.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Maybe.” They stood together quietly for a time before Steve spoke up again. “The 107th was captured. It was my dad’s unit.” Bucky stayed quiet. “I’m going after them. It’s the least I could do.”

Bucky took a deep breath. “What do you need?” he asked.

Steve seemed to think. “A plane, to get across the front,” he answered. “Maybe permission.”

Bucky nodded. “See if you can get permission first. That would get you the plane,” he reasoned. “But if you don’t get permission…”

“I’ll get Agent Carter’s help,” Steve said. “I think she likes me.” Bucky nodded.

“Do you want me at your six?” Bucky asked.

Steve quietly pulled back to look at Bucky, a bright smile-- happy and dangerous and oh, so perfect-- spreading across his face. “Couldn’t leave you behind and make you miss the fun, now could I?” he said. Bucky gave him a matching grin and kiss, already lusting for the blood of anyone who made themselves Steve’s enemy.

~*~

Bucky swung into the plane just as it left the ground, quickly sliding next to Steve.

“And who the bloody hell are you?” Agent Carter asked angrily.

Bucky looked insulted and turned to Steve. “Did you not mention me?” he asked.

Steve shrugged. “She said that she would only risk me, so I didn’t tell her that I was bringing you too,” he explained. Bucky nodded and shrugged off the slight offense.

“I don’t suppose you want to explain the random pretty boy I’m flying,” Howard called back.

“I ain’t no random guy,” Bucky complained.

“I know for a fact that Cap doesn’t see too many guys on the road to make friends with. So, how do you know him?” Howard asked. “Are you an invert that’s so in love with Captain America that he joined the army for him? Or are you just another show girl?” Steve’s jaw dropped, and he decided that Howard would never know. One whisper could jeopardize everything Steve had worked for.

“Nah,” Bucky said, his smile sharp and dangerous. “Invert, yes. In love, yes. With Captain America, no. Joined the army, no. Show girl, also no. I’m the one that kills people once Stevie’s done with ‘em.” Howard shifted in his seat.

“How did you get in here if you aren’t army?” Agent Carter asked. Bucky only smiled at her, the unnerving smile that got people to look away. Sure enough, after a moment, she turned to look at Steve. “You shouldn’t have brought a civilian.”

“He’s fine,” Steve told her with a shrug. “He’s got more experience than I do.”

“Besides,” Howard piped up, “maybe he’ll get shot. Then, we’ll be rid of one more queer.”

“Or,” Bucky said, “I’ll survive, head back to camp with Stevie, and make sure that we’re rid of one more fathead.”

“Or,” Agent Carter snapped. “He’ll survive just long enough for me to kill you both.”

Bucky watched her for a moment before turning to Steve. “I like her,” he announced. After a second, he leaned closer to Steve’s ear, lowering his voice, and added, “I’ve got Loki ready to drop everything and act as backup if and when we need it.” Steve nodded and settled in for the trip, comforted by the knowledge that someone would be there to help, especially someone with magic.

~*~

Steve was successful, and ended up at the head of a massive caravan of soldiers, with all of them looking to him for guidance. He quickly turned to Bucky, who grabbed Loki-- who’d arrived to organize confused POWs while Steve and Bucky faced Schmidt-- and began organizing the troops. Trusted men gained unofficial titles and began organizing their own people until there was a loose chain of command. Just before dark of their first full day of walking, Steve’s group arranged a place for the men to stay the night. Said small group of officers ended up sitting with Steve, Bucky, and Loki around one of the fires.

“What did you say your names were?” Falsworth asked, narrowing his eyes at the three. Bucky and Loki pushed the question off to Steve with matching raised eyebrows.

“Um… I said Captain America. It’s technically Steve Rogers, though,” Steve admitted. Dernier grumbled something under his breath.

“He saved all your asses. Don’t be rude,” Bucky snapped.

“Calm down,” Loki said quietly, nudging Bucky’s foot with his own. Steve, for his part, looked lost.

“And you two?” Jones asked. After a second, he added, “Sirs.”

“Luka Smith,” Loki said. “The grumpy one is James Barnes, but for some reason, he likes to be called ‘Bucky.’”

“It’s endearing,” Steve said, offended on Bucky’s behalf.

“As ‘endearing’ as it is, where the fuck does it come from?” Dugan asked.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” Bucky supplied. “Too many Jameses.”

“Amen,” Morita said, raising a flask that he’d stolen from a Nazi soldier.

“Forgive me if I am overstepping,” Falsworth said, “but are the two of you…” He gestured to Bucky and Steve suggestively and raised his eyebrows. “With the… ‘endearing’... I mean, you two have proven that you aren’t exactly useless but…” Bucky glanced around and, upon finding that there weren’t any other soldiers around, pounced onto his Heart. The force of it knocked both he and Steve off of the log that they’d been sitting on as their lips found each other.

Loki stared at the two before sighing. “Why do I even talk to you?” he asked.

Bucky grinned and sank his teeth into Steve’s neck, making the latter moan loudly. Bucky covered Steve’s mouth as Loki facepalmed.

“Is that blood?” Jones asked, sounding about ready to faint.

“Not only are the three of us homosexualists, but we’re also magical. James and I do a lot of blood magic,” Loki explained. “Steven gladly supplies James with what he needs.”

“I thought those were just stories,” Morita breathed, staring at where Bucky was working Steve out of his uniform.

“Pansies or witches?” Dugan asked Morita.

“We’re fairies either way. However,” Loki said, leaning back to look pointedly at Steve and Bucky, “we try to avoid doing anything in front of an audience nowadays.” Bucky snickered, and he and his Heart disappeared in a puff of a red so dark it was nearly black. Loki pulled out a bottle of whiskey. “Shall we drink until we forget what we just saw?”


	4. Chapter 4

Bucky thought that Agent Carter was a fine woman. He really did. But he kinda really hated the way she and Steve looked at each other. He distracted Steve the only way he knew how to, as they stood in the center of the mass of soldiers.

“Let’s hear it for Captain America!” he shouted. It was perfect, as the group ascended into cheers for Bucky’s most precious Heart and said Heart turned to smile at Bucky. Bucky tilted his head and gave Steve a crooked smile, as pure pride and happiness vibrated from Bucky to Steve through the bond.

Peggy caught his arm as the crowd began to disperse, after Steve had left to go over the entire ordeal with Colonel Phillips. She glanced around before pursing her lips at Bucky.

“Can I help you?” Bucky asked, trying to press down the pure fae part of him that wanted to tear this woman to pieces for even thinking about Steve.

“Look,” she said quietly. “Steve is amazing. And he’s finally getting the shot he wants and needs. If it were ruined by people finding out about you two…”

“So, I should what?” Bucky snapped, lowering his voice more than any average human would be able to. “Back off so that you can have him?”

“No,” Peggy hissed. “But I know how hard it is to be queer in the military. I’m offering to act as a cover.”

Bucky paused for a moment, considering. “And in return?”

Peggy shrugged. “One of you two does the same for me when the time comes.”

Bucky grinned, showing off his teeth, but Peggy didn’t flinch. “Sounds like a deal, Agent Margaret Carter.” This time Peggy shifted, as the air changed in that way that it always did when someone made a deal with something inhuman. Bucky wasn’t sure what people felt, exactly, but he knew that it made them uneasy, and that was all that mattered.

~*~

 

The war continued and the Howlies, as they became known, learned certain things that were best to keep in mind:

One, Luka Smith was absolutely crazy, no matter how sane he appeared. Building on this, Luka was not one to be messed with and always someone to have on your team. Also building on this, Luka was more than a bit blood-crazy and always happy to kill for someone whose presence he didn’t mind.

Two, Bucky was more Mama Bear than blood-crazy. Then again, he was more Steve-crazy than blood-crazy. Bucky could quickly establish pack and would defend them with his life. Or, well… defend them with other people’s deaths.

Three, do not, under any circumstances, insult Luka in front of Bucky. It should be noted that it wasn’t a mistake that a Howlie had made, but a mistake of which they’d seen the aftermath.

Four, in times of trouble or troubled sleep, it’s best to have Steve sing. Magic might be vaguely questionable, but a war shouldn’t be lost because people were half-asleep.

Five, it’s best to not question anything that involved Bucky or Luka, or even Steve. If Peggy happens to go on dates with all three… well, that isn’t anyone else’s business.

Six, if Luka dislikes Howard, then Bucky hates him with a burning passion. On that note, do not give Bucky-- or Luka-- a weapon and then allow Howard to open his mouth, lest a bullet enter said mouth.

Seven, Luka and Bucky were not their real names. They didn’t like people calling them by their real names. However, after a nap, Luka would never and Bucky would only sometimes answer to their aliases.

Eight, just because they weren’t there in person didn’t mean that Luka and Bucky wouldn’t hear you calling for them if you were in trouble. It came with the semi-god territory.

Nine, having Steve, Bucky, and Luka together in battle was very good. Having Steve and Bucky or Bucky and Luka together in civilian territories would end in loud sex and raunchy-sounding conversations in other languages, respectively.

Ten, Bucky was secretly a cuddler. This was not to be discussed. Ever. By threat of a very long, drawn out, painful death.

Eleven, Luka had daddy issues. Again, this was not to be discussed.

Twelve, and finally, Bucky was Luka’s unofficial father. Supposedly. The Howlies agreed that he acted more like a mother. Steve didn’t comment save for a chuckle.

~*~

Luka had been gone for a week when Bucky announced that he had to go as well. They’d just returned from a successful mission, where they’d captured Zola. Bucky seemed concerned, which made Steve concerned, which made everyone else concerned. With their two most powerful players gone and time running out on the clock, the team decided to go ahead with the plan to take out Johann Schmidt’s last base.

Luka had been gone for a week and half and Bucky had been gone for a handful of days when Peggy kissed Steve hard in place of his Soul and sent him off after the Red Skull and the glowing blue cube.

Bucky was sitting over Loki’s broken-but-healing body when his chest suddenly seized. He carefully lowered himself to his knees as wave after wave of panic and desperation and fear and rage washed over him. It wasn’t until a low humming filled his ears that he realized that it was all from Steve. Bucky could only watch the steady rising and falling of Loki’s chest as he pushed clarity and stability and calm and the full power of his own wrath out to Steve. Soon enough, the violent storm returns to relaxed ripples.

It was a few seconds after Bucky sent his support when the Red Skull is killed.

It was a few more before Steve could calm himself.

It was a few minutes before Steve could radio Peggy.

“Steve? Is that you?” Her voice only served to further calm Steve’s beating heart. God, what would happen to Bucky without his Heart?

“Peggy, Schmidt’s dead.” He was too tired to put any effort into it. He felt sick, already knowing what he’d have to do.

“What about the plane?” Always on top of things. Peggy would go on to do great things, Steve just knew it.

“I’m flying her,” Steve explained, searching for a way to tell her.

“Give me your coordinates. I’ll find you a safe landing site.” Oh, Peggy.

“There’s not going to be a safe landing, but I can try and force her down.”

“I’ll get Howard on the line. He’ll know what to do.”

“There's not enough time. This thing's moving too fast and it's heading for New York. I gotta put her in the water.”

“Steve…” He could hear her breath catch. “What about the Howlies? What about everyone that loves you.” Bucky, she whispered, only audible to Steve himself.

“You can do it without me. There are bigger battles than me.” The line was quiet for a while. “Keep them safe. They’ll take care of you when I can’t.” Don’t let Howard and Bucky kill each other. Keep in touch with Bucky. Don’t get caught loving someone that they say you shouldn’t.

“I will. Everything will be-” Her voice cut out to static, leaving Steve with only his thoughts. Quietly, Steve began singing, letting the calm woven into his magic calm himself. He could see the ice below him rapidly approaching.

Hundreds and hundreds of miles away, Bucky allowed that same forced calm rush over himself as a chill quickly followed. The fire that kept Loki warm did nothing for the older trickster as the bowl in his hand clattered to the floor.

~*~

It’s three days later when Bucky is finally sure enough of Loki’s health to return to the Howlies. First, he slips into camp, but switches to a near-march when he sees the Howlies, Peggy, Colonel Phillips, and Howard Stark sitting around a table.

“Where is he?” Bucky demanded. For a moment, everything was silent as they all looked down at the table.

Finally, Peggy shook her head and looked up to Bucky with tears in her eyes. “There were bombs in the plane, headed for big cities. There was no other way,” she told him. Slowly, the others looked up to watch Bucky’s face harden.

“He’s dead,” he stated. Peggy only nodded. Bucky immediately went for Howard’s throat as the other man attempted to bolt. “Why did you let him?!” Bucky screamed, his teeth bared and his hand firmly wrapped around Howard’s neck.

“James Buchanan, please!” Peggy said, somehow both pleading and scolding. When this did nothing and Bucky continued to growl in ancient tongues, she added, “He wouldn’t want this.” It took a moment, but Bucky let Howard drop to the ground. Another beat later, Bucky went up in a poof of smoke.

Silence overtook the group, excusing Howard’s gasping for breath, until Phillips spoke up. “What the hell was that?”

“An angry Irish Trickster Faery who just found out that his lover died and immediately found someone to blame,” Falsworth said. To Phillips’ disbelieving look, he added, “I wish I was joking, believe me. We just need to hope that he doesn’t go on a killing spree at us.”


	5. Chapter 5

Steve felt more than a bit off-kilter when he woke up. For a bit, he just breathed. Then, he began letting the world in. A baseball game was chattering through the radio, blessedly familiar. However, the more he listened, the more he began to realize that the game was too familiar. Bucky had taken him to that game.

Refusing to open his eyes, Steve reached towards his physical sense of touch. The shirt was too soft as it brushed against his chest, and his pants were just weird. The fabric and mattress that he was laying on seemed a bit off, but he’d been in poverty and then Europe, so maybe it was normal. Or maybe it wasn’t.

To double check, Steve started to feel around with his magic. It certainly felt the way New York did, and close to the way London and Paris had felt in the more magical pockets. Still, things were off, and that set Steve on edge. Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone too close.

Keeping his eyes closed in case anyone was watching somehow, Steve smelled the air. It was… clean. Not Europe-clean, but cleaner than New York ever was. So, someplace with a few small factories, a fairly sized population from what he could tell, strong magic, and what was likely to be a nice sense of wealth. Maybe Bucky had found him.

Finally, Steve blinked until he was used to the light. Everything that seemed wrong only got worse. He sat up, wondering how soon a fight would come. Sure enough, a woman that was even more off than the room and game walked in.

“Good morning,” she said. “Or should I say, afternoon.” Her accent didn’t suggest that she was anything but American. What had happened after he crashed?

“Where am I?” Steve asked.

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City,” she answered. Lies, no doubt.

“Where am I really?” he asked, suspicious enough to slip in some… persuasion.

“You’re in a recovery room in New York City,” she repeated.

“The game,” Steve said seriously. “It’s from May, 1941. I know, cause I was there.” Steve stood. “Now, I’m gonna ask you again. Where am I?” Struck by a sudden idea, he added with an easy force for truth, “When am I?”

“A recovery room in New York City, 2011,” she answered. She looked horrified that she hadn’t been able to hold back the year as fear and shock seized Steve’s heart.

“Tell me more,” Steve demanded, his voice sounding like a crystal-clear, gentle river flowing over deadly, jagged rocks. “In America? Did we win the war?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “To both.”

“Who are you?”

“Agent Sarah Jackson of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division,” she said.

“What is it?” Steve snapped as two armed guards in black armor walked in. “Don’t move.” The two immediately stopped, and Steve turned back to Agent Jackson.

“It- It’s a… an American government agency. Spies and mutants,” she said. Steve didn’t have to say anything before she continued. “People with powers. Inhumans, superhumans, superheroes.”

“Captain,” a man said, marching in. “Kindly stop scaring my people.” For some reason, the man’s attitude made him release the three, and they all quickly left. “Now, I understand that you’re upset, but-”

“It’s been 66 years,” Steve hissed. “I wake up to a lie. Yes, you could say that I’m a little upset.”

“We were hoping to break it to you gently,” the man said. “My name is Director Nicholas J. Fury. I took over S.H.I.E.L.D. after Director Margaret Carter retired.” Steve sat down at Peggy’s name. “It’s been a long time, Captain, and I understand that you’ll need time to cope. Once you have, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers Initiative will be waiting for you.” Fury made a move to leave.

“Avengers Initiative?” Steve asked.

“The best, all on one super team, led by you,” Fury said as he continued to walk. “But that’s unimportant now. What’s important is getting you set up in your new apartment.”

At this, Steve quickly stood and followed the Director out. Belatedly, he noticed that the room was a set, which explained some of the irregularities his magic had picked up on. They’d built a tiny set in a giant room. It didn’t seem like something Peggy would have ever approved, but she wasn’t running S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore. It did raise some questions about Fury, though.

~*~

Six months, Steve waited. Six months of wandering around, lost in a new New York. Six months of adapting to a strange sort of metro magic that had taken over in his absence. Six months of “what do you mean, milk costs over two dollars?” and “what the fuck is Wikipedia?” Six months of coffee, running, changing, breakfast at a cafe, pretending to do something with himself, showering, and bed. Six months of buying small pieces of art to put in his apartment, to try to make it his own. Six months in Brooklyn, filled with people known as “hipsters”, who were decidedly less fun than 1940’s hipsters.

In six months, Steve found that there was a new apartment building where his had once stood. For a brief second, he wished that S.H.I.E.L.D. had set him up with one of the apartments in that building. In the next second, he watched a man with a beard, a bun, flannel, glasses that were likely fake, and a pointless pair of boots walk out of the building, and Steve decided that he was happy with his own place.

In those six months, Steve found out that a restaurant with a speakeasy-- despite the fact that alcohol was perfectly legal-- called Tonia’s stood where Fae’s had been. Steve tried the restaurant, then tried the “speakeasy” about a week later. It was a gay speakeasy, run by an interesting amount of witches and spellcasters. Steve returned quite a few times, if only for an extra boost from the motivation and cheer charms in the drinks and etched into the glasses. He liked it.

In those six months, Steve found no trace of Bucky or Loki. In those six months, Steve tried to figure out if Bucky was dead, had abandoned Steve, or simply didn’t know that Steve was still alive.

Six months, Steve waited.

~*~

 

At the beginning of the seventh month, Fury called Steve into D.C. for a meeting. Steve arrived in what he’d been taught by the nice people at Tonia’s Speakeasy was acceptable to wear in the modern world-- black dress slacks and a button down with the top two buttons undone. Cynthia, a North African Witch and a pretty girl with a good taste in dresses and knives, made him roll up his sleeves “to show off his forearms”.

At the beginning of the seventh month, Steve sat down across a desk from Fury, who actually smiled and chuckled at Steve’s outfit. Steve looked himself over, trying to figure out if he’d done something wrong.

“First of all, Captain,” Fury began, “I’m glad that you’re finding your way in the modern world. Second of all, you should thank whoever dressed you, ‘cause you could get a job as a model if you don’t want to work for S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Steve coughed and blushed. Why could he accept compliments from people he’d be sleeping with and absolutely no one else? “Thank you, sir.”

Fury nodded. “Have you thought about the Avengers Initiative at all?” he asked.

Steve nodded, shifting in his seat. “I’d like to help out in any way I can, sir,” he said. A distraction-- from all the change, from all the empty, from all the where the hell was Bucky-- was always be nice.

Fury nodded again. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. He pulled out a stack of files and dropped it on the desk in front of Steve. “The top one is a paper briefing on the Avengers Initiative. Also inside is a USB drive with an audio briefing and a slideshow briefing. The rest are the files of possible team members. I’m a busy man, Captain, and now that you’ve started, I am slightly less busy. Thank you and goodbye.”

Steve stared, slack-jawed for a moment, then gathered up the files and stood. “Goodbye, sir,” he said, quickly leaving.

~*~

 

Steve considered working in his apartment. Really, he did. It was just that the magic was stronger in the speakeasy at Tonia’s. And it was less lonely. And he got a discount on the drinks just because he looked pretty. It was a good deal.

So, Steve sat at a table in the back, where he was out of the way, but within view of the baristas, and able to see the entire speakeasy. He put the files on the table in front of the second chair to keep anyone from sitting in it. To his right sat a special drink from Cynthia-- “to calm the nerves, help you focus, and help you with your decisions”-- shining amber in the golden light.

Done with procrastinating (for the moment), Steve took the USB drive out of the top file, cracked open his laptop, and got started on the audio briefing as he followed along in the paper version. One month, choosing a second-in-command and a full team. Only called out when necessary, with the potential for a few long-term projects. Simple enough.

Putting his laptop away, Steve pulled out the second file, marked “A.E.S.” on the tab. Steve sipped on Cynthia’s mixture and flipped the folder open. Immediately inside, covering the name and basic information, was a sticky note written in Fury’s handwriting.

“Will provide gear, training facilities, living space, food. If selected, put in position of power, even if not given legitimate power.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, but moved the sticky note aside to read.

Anthony Edward Stark, aged 41 years, called “Ironman”/”Iron Man”, male, born May 29, 1970, son of Howard and Maria Stark. Superpowers: none. None?

“Hey, Cynthia?” Steve called.

Cynthia bounced over, grinning. “Whatcha need, soldier?” she asked.

“Tell me about Iron Man. Strengths, weaknesses, known stuff,” he said.

“Well,” she began, cocking her head. “Tony Stark plus flying suit of armor equals Iron Man. So… he flies. He can withstand a certain amount of electricity, at least. It made the news last year. Some crazy guy with lightning whips. He can fight a lot of guys at once, especially with War Machine at his back. He can… lazer people. Uh… blast them. Shoot them. Blow them up.”

“What’s his public origin story?” Steve asked.

“He disappeared in the Middle East for a few months, popped back up, shut down the weapons division of Stark Industries, fought his father’s right hand man with the Iron suit, went public about his supersona,” Cynthia explained with a shrug.

“If you had to label him with a superpower, what would it be?” he asked.

Cynthia thought for a moment. “Iron Man’s superpower would be Tony Stark,” she concluded. To Steve’s raised eyebrows, she continued, “Tony Stark’s superpower would be either seduction or philanthropy. Or, you know, his absolute genius. He miniaturized his famous Arc Reactor. No one else was able to do that.” Steve slowly nodded, looking at Tony’s file. “Why?”

“I’m… doing stuff,” Steve said.

“Is Tony playing the role of ‘stuff’?” Cynthia asked. It took a moment, but it did eventually click in Steve’s head. He gave her an unimpressed look as she tried not to laugh. “Okay, okay. Top secret, nothing kinky. I get it. Need anything else that you could have just looked up?”

“Because the internet never lies,” Steve grumbled sarcastically, making her laugh.

“I’ll get you a refill and let you work, old man,” she said, bounding off.

Steve looked down at the rest of the page, filled out by hand. Textbook narcissism. Playboy. Compulsive (but they want Steve on this team...). A lot like Howard, apparently. All considered “negative” and “possible issues”. But Fury wanted Stark in a position of power.

Turning the page, Steve could begin to see why, as well as some major differences between Tony and Howard. Numbers that suggested that Tony could be a trillionaire, except for an impressive amount of donating. Besides the fact that Tony was giving away money for free, which was something that Howard would never even consider, the charities that were receiving money were mostly things that Howard disapproved of. Turning the pages, Steve found that there were too many LGBT+ charities to count. Howard hadn’t been able to stand Bucky’s… blatant homosexuality. How much better did Tony have to be?

Continuing down the list, charities that built homes and helped veterans, unwed mothers, and the homeless to get back onto their feet rose in number. STEM programs-- which Steve had discovered the week before-- likely numbered in the dozens. And Tony was still rolling in green. Even after cutting the biggest money-making section of Stark Industries.

The following pages listed Iron Man’s actions, mostly blowing up weapons that had ended up with the wrong people, plus liberating a few villages. There were a few other incidents listed that Steve had heard about, and was fairly impressed by. In the end, he agreed with at least part of the reviewing agent’s conclusion: Iron Man should have a place on the team. As far as Tony Stark went? He seemed better than Howard, and Steve hadn’t minded Howard. He would have to meet Tony in person. He pulled out his cellphone and dialled the number noted at the front. The phone rang for a moment before being picked up.

“Hello. You’ve reached the phone of Tony Stark,” a man’s voice said. “However, you’re using an Apple phone, and that’s just sad. Before introducing yourself and beginning a conversation, can we interest you in a brand new StarkPhone, complete with 48-hour battery, five-year warranty, and a price that is considered low, despite it being enough to pay for a week of food for a poor family?”

Steve was quiet for a moment. “I’m ninety years old. I was handed a phone. I’m using it for as long as I have to,” he said. The line was quiet.

“Oh!” the man finally exclaimed. “Captain!” He paused. “Please tell me that S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t actually give you an iPhone.”

Steve sighed. “I kinda wish that they hadn’t.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” the man said. “Well, Cap. Besides getting you a proper phone, what can I do for you? Make you a pretty gun? Get you a laptop, since they probably gave you an Apple for that as well?”

Steve snorted. “I just wanted to meet you in person, honestly,” he said. “Though, a phone and a laptop wouldn’t be awful.”

“Fantastic,” the man-- presumably Tony Stark himself-- replied. “Let’s see… you’re in New York, so is 2 o’clock on Sunday at the Tower all right? I can have a laptop and phone ready for you by then.”

“Stark Tower?” Steve checked.

“Yeah,” Tony said, almost sounding distracted. “Says ‘Stark’ in really big letters on the side. I’d say that you can’t miss it, but it kinda looks like every other big building in New York. Pepper said ‘no’ to stained glass windows and legit stone and carvings. Wanted it to be a high-tech, more detailed version of, like, the Woolworth building but nooooooo…”

“I guess that’s too bad,” Steve said after a moment. “I’ve heard… fairly positive things about how it turned out, though.”

“Yeah, it turned out okay,” Tony admitted quietly.

“See you Sunday,” Steve offered, realizing that he’d probably lost Tony’s attention. He received a vague “mhm” sound, then hung up.

Steve put his phone on the table, reviewing the conversation in his head. Tony seemed like a bit of an ass, but not as bad as the file made him out to be. Tony definitely looked like a possibility as Steve’s right hand. Still, Steve needed backup options, and he needed to have a loose team for Stark-- or whoever-- to choose from. Sighing, Steve closed Tony’s folder and moved on.


	6. Chapter 6

In the end, Steve called in the weekday crew of Tonia’s Speakeasy on Saturday for help with his outfit for Sunday. Tony Stark was known for his tastes in fashion, a mixture of expensive and cheap, ridiculous and normal. No matter what, though, he looked good. Aimee, Lyssa, and Cynthia took one look at his closet-- mostly old man clothes that could pass as hipster-- and decided that a shopping trip was necessary. Aimee, in particular, practically screamed when Steve told her that they weren’t really limited by a budget.

A trip around most of New York’s stores gave Steve an entirely new wardrobe and very specific instructions. The girls didn’t leave until around 3 a.m., after finally deciding on an outfit and eating an entire pizza each. Then, Steve panicked over what to say when he met Tony, reviewed what he knew again, reviewed his selections for the team, and generally reconsidered his life choices. When the sun rose, Steve went for his usual run, slept until noon, showered, dressed, and left.

The outfit-- jeans from somewhere important, boots from somewhere more important, a fuzzy-but-mostly-professional sweater from somewhere not as important, and a $2,000 coat because it was cold-- did more for Steve’s self-esteem than he was expecting. The girls had his back, and he could always claim old age if Tony didn’t like something. And Tony didn’t seem like an absolute ass, just most of one.

At Stark Tower, Steve went to elevator “7” and waited, like Tony’s text had said. The doors closed behind him and didn’t move. After a moment, there was a three-tone ting, and then a voice.

“Welcome, Captain Rogers,” said the man. “My name is J.A.R.V.I.S. and I am Mr. Stark’s artificially intelligent butler, general assistant, and, quote, ‘brainchild’. In essence, I am the computer that runs his life. Sir is expecting you in his laboratories.” With that, the elevator began to move.

“Thanks, … J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Steve said, mildly confused but willing to roll with it.

“I am always at your service, Captain,” the A.I. replied. Eventually, the elevator stopped. “Sir is currently in a lab to your left. It will be the first and only door you encounter on your right side. Enjoy your stay, Captain.”

“Thanks again, J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Steve said, walking out. He turned left, then right, into a darkened lab lit up by only computer screens. He could hear the voice from the phone muttering, with clinks of metal as background.

“No, no, no,” Tony grumbled from… somewhere in the lab. Steve couldn’t see him yet, but there was enough clutter and not enough light that it didn’t mean much. “Fuck!” The curse was hissed farther forward, so Steve followed the noise and prayed that it wasn’t just an echo. Finally, Steve caught sight of a shadow moving around, picking at something.

Only… the shadow wasn’t that of a person. Not a traditional one, at least. Stepping closer, Steve could practically smell the magic on the man in front of him. Tony’s wings flapped once before tucking back again, showing for a brief second that they were much bigger than Steve himself, let alone the man they were attached to. They flapped again as Tony leaned closer to the pieces of metal that he seemed to be poking at. Steve coughed politely, only to begin to think that Tony was actually a demon as the creature looked up. Bright light reflected off of the horns on Tony’s head and the smaller horns at the top joint of his wings. Tony blinked as his cat-like pupils widened to hide his gold irises. His tongue flicked out, the parting of his lips hinting at fangs where his canines would be. Never mind the glowing thing in his chest.

“Oh,” Tony said, turning back to his work. “Phone and computer are on the table. Added a tablet. You know, threes.”

“Which table?” Steve asked, faintly surprised at his ability to speak. Good gods above, did Fury have him working with a devil? Tony didn’t quite feel like one…

There was a thump as something hit a table nearby. Steve looked to see… a tail. A tail with spikes on top that was connected to Tony. Tony had a tail.

After a moment, Steve actually looked at the table, and saw three boxes neatly stacked up on each other. “Thanks,” he said, moving over towards them. He picked up the smallest box-- no doubt holding the phone-- and opened it in hopes of figuring it out until Tony took a break and they could talk. Instead, Steve only found that it was too dark to do much of anything. “Could you turn on a light or two? I can’t see--”

“Shit!” Tony shouted, suddenly diving towards a wall. “Shit, sorry.” Lights began to turn on. “I forget that most people need light.” Steve chuckled as his eyes adjusted, then glanced over to where Tony was going back to work. That was when it clicked-- horns, wings, and a tail, plus definitely-not-human legs and feet and kinda scaly red hands with black fingernails that were more like talons. Tony was a dragon. Western dragons made sense with all of the money and the “compulsiveness” and the “narcissism”. But it didn’t make sense with the “donating” part. Or the glowing thing.

“European dragon?” Steve said as he pulled out his new phone.

“North European,” Tony replied, as if the correction made a difference. Tony seemed to pick up on the fact that Steve didn’t understand, because he continued, “Slight difference. More people-treasure with materialistic attachments than gold-treasure with a giant castle.”

“Because you don’t have a giant castle,” Steve said, deadpan.

Tony seemed to think about it. “Touche, Cap,” he said. “So what are you? Wait no, let me guess.” Steve’s mouth closed and an eyebrow rose. “Cold is just the ice. Old stuff is just old stuff. The spark is just magic…” Tony frowned, then turned to Steve and pounced on him, sniffing behind his ear.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

“Smelling,” Tony answered distractedly. “People smell.” Steve rolled his eyes and waited as Tony’s talons nearly pierced Steve’s coat and Tony’s wings nearly hit Steve’s face. “Grass… forest… sunshine… gunpowder… hmm, sex…” Steve frowned. “Sweat… blood… hm.” Tony pulled away, frowning more than Steve. “Really happy incubus? Nice siren?”

“Nice siren,” Steve answered, vaguely impressed. “Irish Siren. Like, sirens meant to be caring leaders, rather than singing murderers.”

Tony hummed, then bounded back to his work. “Irish Siren,” he mumbled, rolling the name around his mouth. “Siiiiireeeennnnn…. Irishhhhhhh…..” Tony hummed again, his tail flicking around. “Well, everything is supersoldier- and magic-proofed. You’ve met me. Anything else, Mister Captain Irish Siren Steven ‘America’ Rogers?”

“I was hoping you’d act as my second-in-command when I take up the lead of the Avengers Initiative,” Steve said.

Tony slowly turned back around, narrowly missing a possible disaster with his wing and a glass box. “You want me to be a part of the top secret boy band,” he said, seemingly unimpressed.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “You seem like the best for the job.”

Tony walked over, once again almost knocking something over. “Can you hand me my file?” he said. Steve gave it to him, confused. Tony opened it. “Right at the front, can’t miss it: ‘would not recommend’. So why are you talking to me? Does this mean nothing?” Tony shoved the folder at Steve’s face.

“Stark, half of the reasons that they don’t want you to be on this team are reasons that they want me leading this team,” Steve said. “Besides, it seems like you pretend to be an ass more than you actually are an ass.”

“What makes you say that?” Tony snapped, his tone matching the file closing and the sound of his wings flapping again.

“You donate over half of what you earn,” Steve pointed out. “You’ll fight to do the right thing without a second thought.” Tony didn’t seem impressed, so Steve resorted to magic. “Tell me the truth: is it real, or is it an act?”

“An act,” Tony answered immediately, then look a step back as confusion and anger filled his face. “What was that?!”

“I’m a siren,” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “Nicer than most sirens, but still a siren.”

Tony put down his file, then took a few steps back, lowering down so that his butt was closer to his… backwards knees. He sniffed for half of a second in Steve’s direction before seemingly caving. “Okay,” he said. “I’m in. Just… don’t do that again.”

Steve nodded. “Your image means a lot. I get it,” he said. “But don’t lie to me anymore.”

“Okay,” Tony breathed quietly. “What else do we need to take care of?”

In the following hours, Tony further cemented Steve’s choices for the team. Firstly, there were two S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, one a spy and the other a sniper. There was also a Norse god who had made contact when his father kicked him out of Asgard-- whatever that was-- over an argument over race and politics. Details on that particular incident hadn’t been given, but the file mentioned that most myths were inaccurate. Lastly, they chose a scientist that got big and green when angered. Beyond that, they decided that Avengers headquarters would be in Stark Tower and that Spock and Kirk were definitely together and that McCoy may or may not be involved. Needless to say, they were easily distracted.

In the following weeks, Steve, Tony, and Tony’s CEO named Pepper met with architects to remodel and arrange a living and training space for the Avengers. Tony made some changes once they were done to finalize the space. Once things were set, they sent all the necessary paperwork to Director Fury for reviewal.

A month and a half after Steve and Tony met, a week before the Avengers would move in, and seven and a half months after Steve came out of the ice and into a world without Bucky, Steve moved into Stark Tower. It was only a bit farther away from Tonia’s than Steve’s first apartment had been. And now Steve even had his own motorcycle. Though, Themis-- the motorcycle, as named by Tony-- did little to replace the hole Bucky left in Steve’s heart.

~*~  
Once Steve was settled, Tony invaded his apartment with a nicely fuzzy War Machine blanket, a bottle of Scotch, and ice cream. Iron Man-- sans wings and tail and horns, but also sans suit, and only wearing sweatpants and an MIT t-shirt that didn’t quite seem to be his-- immediately draped himself across Steve’s couch.

“Sit!” Tony demanded, lifting his feet as if Steve’s only option was to act as Tony’s footrest. Still, Steve sat, accepted a tub of ice cream, a spoon, and a glass of scotch with ice as Tony draped the blanket over them both. “Now, spill.”

“What?” Steve said, confused. “Spill what?”

“You’re mopey, so we’re going to talk about your problems over alcohol and ice cream like real men,” Tony stated firmly, opening his own tub of ice cream.

Steve stared at his glass of scotch, drank it all in one go, then opened his own ice cream. “Maybe I don’t want to talk abo--”

“Don’t be an emotionally constipated old man,” Tony said. “Spill like the healthy young liberal you are inside.”

Steve took a bite of his ice cream, just to bide himself time. He sighed. “Do people still talk about Hearts and Souls?” he asked.

Tony nodded. “But it’s so unlikely that people talk about them in the same way Averages talk about knights in shining armor,” he said. He paused. “Wait. Did you…?”

Steve curled himself around his ice cream. “Bucky,” he said.

Tony’s face went from his usual, barely-caring expression to something full of sadness. “Bucky,” he murmured. “In the ‘40s.”

“It wasn’t even that we were both guys,” Steve said. “He’s an ancient Supernatural. Like the ones in stories, that go searching for their Hearts or their Souls. But I haven’t seen him since…”

“Shit.”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “And… like, I can’t even track him. I’ve got no idea how to contact him.”

“Maybe he’ll come when we formally announce that you’re not dead,” Tony said.

Steve shrugged. “Or maybe he already knows and doesn’t care. Or maybe he died while I was in the ice. I don’t know.”

“Maybe you’re being a pessimistic self-loathing teenager in love.”

“Maybe you’re being rude to an old man.”

“Maybe you’re being rude to an even older man.”

Steve looked confused.

“Your soulmate. Bucky, or whatever.”

“Oh. Yeah. Maybe I am.”

“Uh-huh. Just ‘maybe’.” The sarcasm was strong in this one, especially combined with Tony’s raised eyebrow and an unimpressed sip of scotch.

“Fight me.”

“Square up, Cap.”

“Star Trek?”

“Avoidance tactic, but one that I approve of. Hey, J, just pick up where we left off,” Tony called to the ceiling.

“As you wish, Sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. replied.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve and Tony were supposed to greet the Avengers-- plus a few sudden scientist friends of Thor’s-- in the garage. Instead, Steve, Dum-E, and U greeted everyone in the garage because Tony accidentally set his arm on fire and was being treated in the medical bay. Steve quickly noted that Tony was not immune to fire, but was less bothered than most. His reaction had been a tired sigh, rather than the loud curse Steve had half-expected.

Agents Romanoff and Barton arrived first with Doctor Banner. Agent Romanoff exited the car like she owned the entire building and was ready to kill anyone who touched it. Agent Barton stumbled out of the car, covered in bandages and drinking straight out of a coffee pot. Doctor Banner stepped out, looking shaken and threw a few glances between Agent Romanoff and her car that made Steve wonder about her driving.

“Captain,” Agent Romanoff said with a smile and a flirtatious tilt of her head. “Natasha Romanoff. A pleasure to meet you, I’m sure.” Coming up next to and behind her, Agent Barton surveyed her and Steve.

“I’m sure we’ll work well together, Agent,” Steve said firmly. The flirtatious look dropped immediately, falling to a calculating eyes. After a moment, a half-formal, half-dead, crooked smile spread across her lips.

“I think you’re right,” she said.

“Cap,” Agent Barton said, raising the mostly empty coffee pot in salute.

“Agent,” Steve returned with a nod. “You awake there?”

“Meh,” Agent Barton replied with a shrug.

“Doctor,” Steve said to Doctor Banner. He only got a nod in return from the still-shaken man. “We’re waiting for one more Avenger and two unofficial Avengers.”

“Unofficials?” Barton said, looking confused, but fairly nonchalant about it-- as if he were only mildly interested or used to being confused.

“A Doctor Jane Foster and a Miss Darcy Lewis,” Steve explained. “Friends and… human associates of Thor’s.” Just then, a Jeep drove into the garage at a fairly alarming speed. Steve and Doctor Banner both stepped towards the door quickly. The Jeep squealed into a parking spot and three people stepped out.

“Greetings!” a man called. “I am Thor, son of Odin, and I am quite pleased to be included in your Midgardian fights.”

Steve held out a hand to shake once Thor was close enough. “Captain Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure to meet you. All of you,” Steve said.

Thor grasped Steve’s hand with both of his own. “I’m sure we have many great deeds ahead of us, Captain. You seem a proper leader,” he said, smiling in a way that only barely reached his eyes-- the way Steve’s own smile tended to nowadays. For a brief moment, Steve wondered what Thor had lost.

“Can… Is there someplace to sit down? Upstairs, maybe?” Doctor Banner asked. “After the drive…”

“Of course,” Steve said, nodding towards the elevator. “Tony’s meeting us in the common rooms once he gets out of med bay.”

“What did Stark do to land himself in there?” Thor’s brunette-- Darcy Lewis-- asked.

Steve sighed. “He blew something up. It’s fairly normal. You’ll get used to it,” he said. “Tony does a lot of weird stuff, but he’s not as much of an asshole as people tend to act like he is.” The group stepped into the elevator, and it began moving.

“Oh?” Agent Romanoff said, an eyebrow raised. Just then, Steve remembered that she’d been the agent to build up Tony’s file in the first place. Steve thought for a moment.

“Admittedly, it might also be that Tony’s just really good at pretending to be an asshole,” Steve amended.

“Why would he pretend to be rude? Or why do you say that he pretends?” Thor asked. He seemed honestly interested, as compared to everyone else’s sarcastic, humoring, ‘if you say so’ attitudes.

Steve shrugged. “He’s a businessman in a dog-eat-dog world, a superhero in a world that doesn’t want one, and promiscuous in a world where even promiscuous people see other promiscuous people as bad people,” he said. “He’s a fluffball when he doesn’t need to deal with business-y stuff.”

Thor nodded. “He acts how he needs to in order to keep his true self safe,” he concluded.

Steve raised his eyebrows. “You sound like you have experience with this sort of thing,” he said.

Thor nodded again. “My brother…” he began, then drifted off, suddenly looking regretful and resigned. “Well, he was much like that. I’m afraid he took it too far and never took his masks off. And now…” Thor sighed, looking sad. “There is nothing to be done now.” The elevator was silent as each occupant came to their conclusions: mainly, that Thor’s brother was dead. It wasn’t the most pleasant thought.

The elevator dinged open to reveal the hallway to the newly built Avengers living room. Steve started in, followed by a cautious pack of teammates. Tony sat on one of the recliners, leaning against one arm of it, while his feet were tossed over the other. He was, of course, already grumping and picking at his bandages. He perked up when he heard the herd walk in.

“Steve!” he gasped. “You brought me presents!” Tony bounced to his feet in a way that made Steve wonder if Tony realized that he wasn’t shifted.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes,” he said, humoring the dragon.

After a few steps, Tony returned to a more normal way to walk. “Welcome to Stark Tower,” he said. “Any mess you make must be cleaned up by you, everyone gets their own apartments-- all cleaned by you--, and there are to be no naked people on the common room furniture unless approved by everyone regularly using said furniture.”

“Does that include you?” Agent Barton asked.

“Well… yeah,” Tony said, looking confused after a moment. “Why wouldn’t it?”

After Steve shot the archer a warning look, Clint shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “You’re rich and do what you want?”

Tony looked confused for a moment, but shrugged it off. “Anyway, there are labeled packets on the dining room table. Inside are official contracts and your keys. Contracts need to be given to me, Cap, or Pepper, by the end of the week,” he said. “Any changes must be cleared before being made, and- oh! Also in the packets are credit cards, paid by yours truly. They max out at $15,000 a month for now. Maxing out repeatedly will result in a lower maximum, but the max will rise around the holidays. Any questions?” When no one answered, Tony clasped his hands together. “Fantastic. Glance through your packets, then we’ll go through the basic tour, and then get you all moved in!”

~*~

It took a month for the team to develop habits in the Tower. At 5:30, Steve would wake up, shower, grab a bagel from the cafe in the Tower’s lobby, and go running around the city. At 6:00, Natasha and Clint would wake up, take their showers, start coffee, and begin to work out in the Avengers gym. Steve would get back at 6:45, quickly shower, and then begin breakfast. By 7:15, all Avengers-- minus Tony, often-- would be in the nook for the morning feast. Pepper would stop by at about 7:45, dragging a half-awake Tony, and would grab coffee before heading to her office. At about 8:30, they all drifted apart to do whatever they had planned.

At 6:30 pm, the team would again gather, this time for their last meal of the day. This one was never prepared by Steve, because Steve was only good with breakfast foods. Tony was the most enthusiastic about cooking, which confused most, but Tony was also the best cook. Otherwise, the duty was passed around the team. Dinner wouldn’t end until about 8:30, but then it was time for dessert, which would take until about 9:15. Then, people would split up for bed, a movie, or-- in Tony’s case, and sometimes Darcy, Jane, or Bruce’s-- lab time. If Steve wasn’t interested in the movie, or had already seen it, he sometimes followed Tony to the labs before heading to bed.

~*~

After breakfast one morning, Steve pulled Tony aside and into the conference room. Tony immediately flopped onto the table in a paint-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls pose. In the next second, he was stripping.

“Itchy skin?” Steve guessed. Tony needed to shift often, since there was no way for him to completely shift and satisfy himself for a longer time. Tony hummed, shaking his head until his horns were fully grown and glinting a soft gold in the light. “We’ve got a mission from Fury. Someone called the ‘Winter Soldier’. People think he’s a supersoldier.”

“Huh,” Tony said, hopping off of the table to drop his pants. “He’d have to be magical then.” Steve cocked his head as he brought up the files on his computer. “It’s why the serum never worked on anyone else. It was always tested on an Average.”

“Oh,” Steve said, pausing as things clicked into place. “And so now Bruce is a…”

“Hulk,” Tony surmised. “It was designed for our kind, not theirs.”

Steve hummed and pulled up the first page. “No one knows what the Winter Soldier looks like,” he said. “No one knows if the Winter Soldier is a guy or a girl. Half of the people who have heard about the Winter Soldier don’t actually believe that they exist.”

“Sounds like fun,” Tony said, finally shifting to where he wanted and promptly sprawling out on the table. “Tactic ideas?”

“None yet,” Steve admitted. “I haven’t read the files, only heard Fury talking about it.”

“Well? Let’s see,” Tony said, impatiently hitting his tail on the table.

Steve huffed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled. Together, the two spent a few hours flipping through the hundred-odd pages that said a lot but told them nothing. Kill after kill, a few assassinations, and disagreeing descriptions.

“Dark hair, light eyes,” Tony stated, once they decided to shut the computer and go over everything verbally to each other. “Murder-happy?”

“Gun for hire?” Steve suggested, but Tony shook his head.

“Fury would be using them after this long,” he pointed out.

“Then how do they pick their victims?” Steve challenged. They were quiet, thinking.

“None of their victims were good people,” Tony said. “Some are remembered as good people, but they actually did some really awful things. Unforgivable things.”

Steve leaned back in his chair to look at the ceiling and spun slowly. “Dark hair. Light eyes. Victims are…” he mumbled, then suddenly sat up to look at the files again. The vigilante-like work almost reminded him... “Impossible shots. Brutal wounds. Rooms that no one could have gotten into or out of.” Of course. Not human. Not a supersoldier. Magic. It was all magic.

“What? What?” Tony said, jumping up to look over Steve’s shoulder. “What do you know that I don’t?”

“Have you heard any stories about Saint Saxon?” Steve asked.

“Who?” Tony responded.

“Saint Saxon. Winter Soldier,” Steve said. “It’s all Bucky!”

~*~

After a short burst of excitement, Tony and Steve were forced to come to the conclusion that, besides finding that Bucky was indeed still alive, they hadn’t actually learned anything helpful. Steve filled Tony in more specifically on Bucky’s past: from a young faery, to basically a demigod, to vigilante, to not-quite-saint, to vigilante again, and then to Bucky’s position as Steve’s second. Steve, of course, was careful to not mention Loki. Loki had capital-’I’ Issues with people knowing about him.

They then began repeating what had become a weekly cycle of ways to get Bucky’s attention, since they would never be able to simply find Bucky. It usually ended around the time that Tony suggested posing nudes. This particular time, it ended when Tony suggested that they stage a massive fight between Steve and a certain dragon, and Steve pointed out that Bucky would kill Tony without hesitation.

Seeing that it had reached a more appropriate time for a team meeting, Steve called everyone-- including Pepper, Jane, and Darcy, in hopes of further input-- into the conference room. Tony managed to reacquaint himself with clothing just before Clint and Natasha arrived. Once the team was seated and comfortable, Steve brought the files up for the thousandth time.

“This is the team’s first project,” Steve explained. “The Winter Soldier. He-- They’re called a ghost story.--”

“They?” Darcy said. “More than one or gender neutral or what?”

“Gender neutral,” Steve said. “We don’t know… anything, basically. Just confirmed kills.”

“Half of the intelligence community doesn’t even believe that he exists,” Natasha commented. “But he does.”

“... Did the Captain not just say that we don’t know if the Winter Soldier is a man or a woman?” Thor said, looking somewhere between confused, judgemental, and curious.

“He’s a guy,” Natasha said. “Believe me. It was a guy that shot through me to kill the guy that I was told to protect.”

“Shit,” Bruce murmured. Tony shot Steve a look.

“Yeah, that sounds like him,” Steve admitted with a sigh.

“What?” Clint said, looking confused and mildly surprised.

“I strongly suspect that the Winter Soldier is a guy that I fought with in the ‘40s,” Steve said.

“How is he still alive?” Pepper asked.

“Rumor has it that Soldier boy’s a super soldier,” Clint said, directing a raised eyebrow to Steve, but Steve shook his head.

“He’s… older. He’s ancient,” Steve said. “And… something else. He’s more like Thor than me.”

“Continue,” Pepper prompted when Steve paused for too long.

Steve sighed. “You know how England has those psychopathic, murderous fairies?” he said. When he got a few nods, he proceeded, “Irish fair folk aren’t too different, but they’re more focused on a good time than murder. Though, sometimes murder is a good time. Anyway, the most famous faery became famous because he was adopted by the old gods and became like… a vigilante. He kept the peace, kept crime to a minimum… When Christianity came to Ireland, he was half-preserved as Saint Saxon. He was that Good.”

“How did he end up in World War II?” Jane asked.

Steve sighed again. “Honestly? I slept with him,” he admitted. The room was silent until Tony began cackling. “Shut up.”

“I must wonder what about your abilities in bed was inspiring enough to bring him to arms,” Thor said, a smile teasing at the corners of his lips.

“Uh…” Darcy said, leaning around Jane to look at Thor. “Maybe… those arms?” Tony’s cackling only got worse, and the others joined in more quietly as Steve turned red.

“In all seriousness,” Natasha said once the room had settled. “How does any of this help us?”

“It doesn’t, really,” Steve admitted. “But it is more info than S.H.I.E.L.D. gave us.”

“Well,” Pepper said, standing up and pulling the whiteboard from the back of the room to the front. “I’ll take notes. Let’s start brainstorming.” The group settled into it, calling out anything that came to mind.

“Oh!” Steve said, suddenly sitting up and cutting the conversation off. “We don’t need to find Bucky.”


	8. Chapter 8

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Clint asked.

“Buchanan,” Tony filled in distractedly. “Saint Saxon. Winter Soldier. Why don’t we need to find him?”

“He’s not the only one working as the Winter Soldier,” Steve said, grinning. “We just need to find Loki.” Thor’s head whipped up.

“Who the hell is Loki?” Clint asked.

“He’s…” Steve began, but had to paused. “Well… he isn’t Bucky’s kin, but he’s Bucky’s blood. If we find Loki, Loki will know where Bucky is.”

“And the difference between kin and blood is...” Natasha prompted.

“Kin is biological family,” Steve explained. “Blood is more like… um.”

“Found family,” Tony supplied. “Blood isn’t just found family, though. It’s the family you fight with, the family you’ve gone through shit with. The family you kill for, kill with, would die with and for. Hence, blood.”

“Damn,” Darcy breathed. “That’s… metal.”

“Did you say that your lover’s blood is named Loki?” Thor asked. Realization dawned for all but Steve.

“Yeah. He’s another trickster,” Steve said. “That’s about all I know. He doesn’t like talking about any time before Bucky.”

“Steve,” Tony said. “Loki. Like Thor’s maybe-not-so-dead brother?”

“Thor’s brother is named Loki?” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Jane answered. “Did you not read the myths?”

“Well, no. The file said that most of the myths were inaccurate, so I didn’t bother.” Things finally half-clicked for Steve. “But… Loki looks nothing like Thor,” he said.

Thor shook his head. “Loki was adopted. He had black hair and green eyes. And a strong affinity for magic,” he said.

The room was silent for a moment as Steve computed everything. “So… hey. I know your brother,” he finally said.

“And you have an idea on how to find him?” Bruce said.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “The Stark Expo. He would never miss it, and I know what his go-to forms look like. Hell, Bucky might even show up.”

“That’s a few months away,” Pepper noted. “Are you willing to wait?”

Steve shot her a strained smile. “I’ve waited this long. What’s a few more months?”

~*~

Tony had gotten Steve into the habit of answering his phone whenever it rang. Tony sometimes called for trivial things, sometimes for work, and sometimes because he needed to be reassured of one thing or another. It only took Steve a few days for him to realize that it was better to answer his phone than to let it go to voicemail. This was why, when Fury called, Steve picked up immediately, even though he was in the middle of lunch.

“Rogers,” Steve said.

“Captain,” Fury boomed through the phone. “How have things been going with the Avengers?”

“Well,” Steve said cautiously. “Was it not clear enough in my reports?”

“I was just checking,” Fury responded. “I was also wondering if you were interested in a S.H.I.E.L.D.-arranged team-bonding exercise. One that could include Miss Lewis and Doctor Foster, if you wished.”

“Sounds good,” Steve said. “The team needs to get out of the Tower.”

“Fantastic,” Fury said. “Have the team on the Tower helipad at 5 a.m. tomorrow morning in casual civilian clothes. No cell phones, no weapons, no nothing. Just the team.”

“Yessir,” Steve said, beginning to regret agreeing with knowing the basics.

“I’ll see you then, Captain,” Fury said, then hung up, leaving Steve alone with his sandwich and his thoughts.

~*~

The team somehow managed to be ready on time. Darcy might have been ready to kill a man and Bruce might have been still half-asleep, but they were at the helipad by 5 a.m. And, at 5 a.m. on the dot, a large black helicopter landed.

The doors opened to reveal Director Fury in all of his pirate-y gloriousness. “I’m glad you’re all here,” he yelled as the team clambered in. “We’ll give you your instructions once we land at the site.” Soon enough, they were off to the mysterious “site”.

With an odd mechanical whir, little… things popped out of the walls of the helicopter. Before Steve could say anything, he felt a pinch at his neck and was forced into darkness.

~*~

Steve came around, still in the helicopter, but it, thankfully, had landed. He looked around and found that the others were fine and also coming to. He unbuckled and glared at Fury, who only looked smug.

“This is the roof of the site,” Fury said once everyone was satisfactorily conscious. “You will all exit the helicopter, go down the stairs directly to the left of the helicopter, and find a way to make it out of this building as if those stairs didn’t exist and back to the Tower without any help from S.H.I.E.L.D., Miss Potts, or Colonel Rhodes. Have fun.”

Sensing their dismissal, the Avengers began their exit and descent. Steve waited until everyone was safely down to examine their surroundings. It was a cell, big enough for all of them, with a single metal door.

“It’s as if we’ve been captured,” Thor realized.

“This is a really bad idea,” Bruce said, definitely awake and looking a little green around the edges. Steve went up to the door and began punching it. It took some damage, but not enough for them to get through.

“It’s too thick,” Natasha said. “It’s pointless.”

“So?” Darcy said. “How do we get out?”

The cell went silent.

“The stairs?” Bruce said hopefully.

“Fury will know if we cheat,” Tony pointed out.

“Thor?” Steve said. “You do lightning, right? Can you… lightning?”

Thor shook his head. “Not enough to be helpful here. It would do more damage to us than the door.”

Again, the cell went silent.

“You’ve gotten your way out of impossible situations before, Stark,” Natasha said. “How are we getting out?”

Tony looked to Steve, silently asking. It took Steve a moment to realize what Tony’s idea was. Steve shrugged, offering it back to Tony. The dragon-shifter nodded and began taking off his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked.

Tony dropped his shirt to the ground. “Getting us out.” With that, cracks wove their way up Tony’s arms. Usually, the cracks would give away to Tony’s dragon scales, but this time they only revealed some sort of lava-like substance. Tony went to the door and placed his hands on the edge. Soon, parts of the door began to glow orange and succumb under Tony’s fingers. Tony continued until sweat gathered on his brow and the door was forced open.

“Okay,” Darcy said in the silence that rang after the door became a non-problem. “Can we leave now?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said, rushing past Tony to escape.

Steve handed Tony back his shirt once Tony’s fire was back under control. “Don’t go too far, Banner. Stay with Thor. Jane, Darcy, Romanoff, and Barton, follow Thor and Banner, but collect any necessities you can find. Stark and I will meet you at the northeast corner of the building,” Steve ordered. “Outside. We’ll take the long way around and see what we can find elsewhere.”

“Yes, sir,” Barton said, patting Steve’s shoulder as the group made their way out.

Once they were gone, Tony turned to Steve. “So?”

“So,” Steve replied, walking out and going the opposite way of the others. “Weapons, food, water, medical supplies, the like.”

“Got it,” Tony said, and that was that.

~*~

By the time they gathered together, they’d only found the bare minimum: just enough food and water for the group of them, limited medical supplies, and a few blankets. They didn’t have any weapons at all.

“Exactly how fucked are we?” Darcy asked. “I mean, we’ve got alien muscles, angry muscles, patriotic muscles, angry Russian, coffee addict, and a tinless Tin Man that can do fire. That’s not too bad, right?”

“Coffee addict?” Clint said. “Is that who I am without my bow?”

“It’s pretty accurate,” Natasha said with a shrug. “But it should be noted that if S.H.I.E.L.D. attacks us as a test, it’s going to be long-distance, not hand-to-hand. They know we’re good with hand-to-hand.”

Steve took a moment to think things over. “Then we find someplace where long-distance isn’t possible, or a place that would favor hand-to-hand,” he said. “There’s forest all around us.”

“But couldn’t people hide up in the trees and shoot us?” Jane asked.

“Not around here,” Clint explained. “Lots of little branches and thin trees, which means that even if you have visual, there aren’t really any good places to sit, aim, and shoot. The forest should actually be pretty good cover, or at least an inconvenience for anyone looking to cause trouble.”

“Um,” Bruce said, still nervous. “Is the fact that they’re predicting storms around most of New England relevant at all?” The group was silent for a moment.

“We’ll find shelter before nightfall or a storm, whichever comes first,” Steve said firmly. “We ate before coming, so we can last a while without food, but if anyone sees anything that they’re sure we can eat, speak up. We’ll travel until we either see the sun reach quarter-to-set or storm clouds coming our way. Then we’ll look for a place to settle down.” Most of the team agreed, though Tony stayed silent.

~*~

Around midday, Steve began to feel hungry, and considered their food options. Thor could hunt, Steve knew, because Thor liked to talk about the feasts he’d supplied. But who knew how much Thor could do or teach without any weapons? Steve knew how to do what he had to in order to eat, as could Natasha and Clint, without a doubt, but how many of them could be helpful without tools? And that was what it came down to: tools.

Natasha and Darcy were leading: Natasha, for her directional skills, and Darcy, to set the speed. Both of them seemed to be doing well. Behind them were Clint and Jane. Clint had changed from how he was at the Tower; he now seemed like more of an agent. Jane just kept moving, occasionally participating in whatever conversation Darcy was having. Natasha and Clint seemed a bit odd, as they walked silently next to Darcy. Tony chatted with Bruce, distracting the poor man from any possible reason for Bruce to hulk out. Steve walked in the back, next to Thor, both of them as quiet as the two agents near the front.

After a moment of consideration, Steve decided that the formation could switch, if only long enough for Steve to consult Tony. “Thor,” Steve said, not too loudly. “Would you mind taking Tony’s spot for a second?”

“Of course not,” Thor said, walking around Tony, while Tony just stopped walking until he and Steve were even.

“What’s up?” Tony asked, his smile fake and tense. That was one more thing to discuss.

“Exactly how long could Jane and Darcy feasibly go without food?” Steve asked.

Tony shrugged. “Three weeks, technically,” he said. “But I’d recommend that they eat at least once a day to keep up their strength.”

Steve nodded, thinking. “If we all eat only once a day, how long will our supplies last?”

“Three, four days,” Tony replied. “It depends on how we split it. But we’ve only got about two and a half days’ worth of water. The stuff around here will probably make most of us sick. Or most of them.”

Steve nodded again. “And if the two of us didn’t drink water from our supplies?”

Tony sighed. “Assuming we found a semi-clean freshwater source, we could probably do three to four days. But we’d have to find water and follow the water so that we don’t lose it. And anything we find could turn into a creek and be useless.”

Steve huffed and looked at his shoes as something to do while he considered their options. “How far away would you estimate the nearest town or road is?”

“In any direction, probably about 10, 15 miles away,” Tony said. “Knowing our luck, in this direction, I’d estimate about 30.”

Steve snorted. “But that’s not even a full day’s worth of walking…”

“So we, hypothetically, could make it before our food and water runs out either way,” Tony concluded. Steve nodded. “So, we eat once a day and all drink a restricted amount of water, and we’ll be fine.”

Steve nodded again. “Then it’s settled,” he said. He and Tony settled into an almost-easy silence as they listened to the conversations in front of them-- between Bruce and Thor, and Darcy featuring Jane. Soon enough, though, Steve spoke up again. “Are you okay?”

Tony didn’t even try for the full fake-smile, settling for a closed-mouthed, quick upturn of his lips. “Always,” he answered.

“Don’t bullshit me, Stark,” Steve hissed. “I will do whatever it takes to get you to talk.”

Tony flinched when he realized that Steve was threatening Tony with siren song. “It- It’s nothing, Steve,” Tony said. “I’m just feeling a bit… anxious. Touchy.”

“Stark,” he said firmly. “I’ve been watching it get worse. Soon enough, you’ll be a liability. So, what’s wrong?”

Tony massaged his palm as he thought about it. “It’s my other side. You guys… you’re not just my team,” he tried to explain. “You’re… You’re mine. You can’t be out here, traipsing through a-- a mixed mesophytic deciduous forest because you have to. You should be… in the Tower. Surrounded by pretty,... expensive... shinies. Not leaves. Not... dirt. Not… ugh.” Tony wiped his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I just…” Tony sighed, and seemed to give up.

Steve scolded himself for not having expected it. He knew that Tony was a dragon, but he sometimes forgot what being a dragon came with. It wasn’t all wings and fire. Tony collected people as his treasure, and had to make sure that said treasure got only the best. Of course Tony would have an issue with their situation.

Steve considered his next move as they walked. “Is there any way we could make things better?” he asked. Tony’s frustrated sigh gave Steve his answer. “Well, everyone is going to stay fed and hydrated for now. Tonight, you’ll be in charge of finding us the best possible place for us to sleep, okay?”

Tony sighed again, more resigned than anything else. “All right, Cap.”

~*~

When they realized that the sun was just past the quarter-til-set point, they checked for clouds and quickly found that a storm was brewing on the horizon. The group began to hash out a rough plan for shelter, one that Tony didn’t seem too happy with but agreed to anyway.

Two hours later, they hadn’t made much progress and Tony was getting antsier by the minute. Each site had an issue with it: trees that would be too easily knocked down by the storm, too many branches above the site, not enough good branches to make a shelter, no way to work out a source of heat for when the temperature dropped and they were drenched.

After enough complaining, Darcy turned to Tony. “How well can you control the temperature of the weird lava fire stuff?” she asked him.

Tony shrugged, caught off guard. “I mean… well enough.”

“Could we used you and Cap as human space heaters and heated blankets?” Darcy asked.

A manic light lit up in Tony’s eyes and a smile slowly stretched across his lips. Everyone but Tony felt left out of the loop.

Tony chuckled, sounding a bit madder than completely necessary. “We need a clearing. About 80 to 100 meters in diameter,” he said, beginning to look around.

“What’s your plan?” Steve asked cautiously as the group began to follow Tony through the forest.

“I’m gonna do a full shift,” Tony said, still doing his creepy grin.

“... You can do that?” Steve said, suddenly realizing that such a thing had never occurred to him.

Tony paused for a moment, starting at Steve like Steve was an idiot. It wasn’t too far from the truth. “Yes, I can do a full shift,” he said. He then, heavy-handed with the sarcasm, added, “No, I can only shift into a weird little demon thing.”

“Oh, shut up, Stark,” Steve grumbled, pushing Tony forward. “Just find us a goddamn place to sleep.”

It took another half hour of walking and confused looks between all but two Avengers, but Tony eventually led them to a large clearing. Once he decided that it was good enough, he began stripping and tossing his clothes to Steve.

Darcy turned away from the night-darkened clearing with a question on the tip of her tongue, only to get a good look at a nearly-naked Tony. “Oh my god,” she said, covering her eyes and turning back to the clearing. “What are you doing?!”

“Clothes don’t shift,” Tony said simply. Now stark naked, he walked into the clearing and let himself begin to shift.

Tony had only reached half-shift when Clint broke the silence. “What the fuck?” he breathed.

“I must agree with Barton,” Thor asked when they didn’t receive an answer right away. “What the fuck is this?”

“Tony’s a dragon shifter,” Steve explained. “Northern European.”

“I get the whole ‘weird little demon thing’ thing,” Natasha commented. “He looks like every child’s version of a less-scary Satan.” Tony threw her a look as more of his skin gave away to lava and scales.

“Is the fact that he’s a northern European dragon… significant?” Bruce asked, staring. “Are there… southern European dragons?”

Steve shrugged. “Slight differences between thought processes and mental-makeup from what I can tell,” he said. “Mainland European dragons all like gold treasure, but different places breed different looks.” By this point, Tony’s ‘look’ was basically large, red, and scaly, and he was only getting bigger.

“Is that why Tony’s obsessed with being rich?” Clint asked.

Steve shook his head. “Northern dragons aren’t mainland dragons. Northern dragons collect people, though they really like things, too,” he explained. “Or, at least, that’s what Tony says. I’m inclined to believe him.”

Tony completed his shift and carefully turned to look at the team, as he basically filled up the meadow. “Good?” he asked, his voice slower, more gravelly, and deeper than usual, but still his.

“It depends on where you think we’re sleeping,” Steve called.

Tony slowly, carefully looked around before arranging himself, laying down. He lifted his wing gently, as to not make too much wind, and presented them with his side. “Here,” he said. The pronunciation was a bit off, with the new shape of his jaw, but the meaning was clear.

“I’m gonna sleep on a fucking dragon!” Darcy gasped, running towards Tony. The others followed at much more of a sedated pace-- right up until they began to feel drops of rain hitting them. All at once, they sped up to take cover under Tony’s wing. They climbed up Tony’s scales to his side and made themselves as comfortable as possible, just as the light rain turned into a downpour. Tony tucked his wing in close, ensuring that only light drafts of fresh air could reach his treasures. Assured of their comfort, the team began portioning out their food.

~*~

Two hours later found the Avengers attempting to sleep, in the care of Tony’s giant dragon form. However, it had become clear that they were either too tired or too paranoid to actually fall asleep. If Steve heard one more frustrated sigh, he was going to scream. Instead, he came up with a solution.

“Oh, Danny, boy,” he sang softly, letting his magic seep slowly into his voice. This song, he knew by heart. It was the one that his mother had used to send Steve to sleep as a child, the one that Bucky sang after Sarah died, and the one that Steve and Bucky sang to the Howlies.

“The pipes, the pipes are calling.”

Around him, his team began to relax. The familiarity was calming to Steve as much as it was to his team.

“From glen to glen, and down the mountainside… The summer’s gone, and all the roses falling… It’s you, it’s you… must go, and I must bide…”

Once the team was settled enough, he put a little bit of ‘sleep’ into his voice.

“But come ye back, when summer’s in the meadow… or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow… I’ll be here, in sunshine or in shadow… oh, Danny, boy, oh, Danny, boy, I love you so…”

Just the two verses had sent the team to sleep, but Steve felt unfinished. In the back of his mind, he could hear Bucky singing it, with the added instrumentals that Bucky could conjure as a trickster.

“But if you come, and all the flowers are dying… And I am dead, as dead I well may be…”

Had Steve been the one to return? Had Bucky died without him? Steve hadn’t died, and Hearts always died first, so Bucky had to be alive, right?

“You’ll come and find the place where I am lying… And kneel and say and ‘Ave’ there for me…”

Gods above, beyond, and past. Bucky had mourned for him. The pain Bucky must have felt. Steve suddenly wanted to cry, to scream, but kept singing instead.

“And I will know, though soft you tread above me… And then my grave will richer, sweeter be…”

Tony moved beneath the team, just slightly. Steve briefly wondered if his own grief was seeping into his song.

“And you’ll bend down, and tell me that you love me… And I will rest in peace until you come for me…”

A second after Steve quieted, he heard a sound: one distinct to when Tony huffed, usually involving quite a bit of smoke and sometimes a small fire. If Tony was doing that on this scale…

Steve got up and swiftly made his way out from under Tony’s warm wing and into the rain. Tony was staring at the silhouette of a man-- a familiar silhouette. Bucky’s silhouette.

Steve only just barely remembered that shouting Bucky’s name would wake the others, and settled for bolting straight at him. Steve tackled his Soul in a hug, feeling Bucky return the hug in a heartbeat.

“Stevie?” Bucky whispered. His voice was different from any way that Steve had ever heard it. It was shaky, scared, and unsure.

“Bucky,” Steve responded in kind. Behind them, Tony huffed again.

“Steve, what…?” Bucky began, but gave up and pulled his Heart closer.

“The serum saved me,” Steve whispered. “But, God, I haven’t really been living without you.”

“How long,” Bucky asked after a few moments of silence. “How long have you…?”

“Months, Buck,” Steve said. “Only months. But, Gods, I missed you.”

“Oh, Stevie,” Bucky whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“So am I,” Steve replied.

Tony fell back asleep before Steve and Bucky even pulled away from each other. When the two did finally pull away, it was to slide under Tony’s wing, but away from the others. There, they settled down for a night filled with aggressive cuddling.


	9. Chapter 9

The team was, obviously, more than a bit confused to find a strange man wrapped around their sleeping captain in the morning. The group was carefully quiet, watching the two sleep.

“If the Captain’s love can rally a man to war,” Thor commented, “no doubt it can call a man home all the same.” The team agreed, though Darcy ‘aww’d more than anything else.

The team, unwilling to wake Steve or Bucky up, instead nudged Tony awake. Tony’s reaction to being woken up was to wiggle himself all the way awake. This, in turn, woke up a very grumpy trickster and a slightly more happy siren.

“What the fuck, you useless dragon,” Bucky hissed as the sunlight hit his eyes. Tony huffed, wiggled until Bucky and Steve fell off of his side, then began to shift back. “Steve, your dragon is a dick.”

Steve laughed from his new spot on the muddy ground. “He’s not so bad when you don’t insult him first.”

“Aye,” Thor boomed. “Stark takes care of those around him.”

Bucky froze and turned to Steve with a glare. “Why is it that every time I leave you alone, you make friends with a Stark?” Bucky spat the name like it was poison on his tongue.

“Oh, come on, Bucky,” Steve said. “Tony isn’t that bad. You can tell that he mostly takes after his ma.”

“What did my dad do this time that I’m getting shit for?” Tony asked, finally reaching his halfway point.

“What the hell didn’t your dad do?” Bucky snapped.

“Show me what a good father looks like?” Tony offered, finally to the point that he could begin to get dressed.

Bucky settled down, still looking a bit wary. “Okay.”

“If that’s all sorted out…” Darcy said. “Maybe… home?”

“Yeah,” Clint said, turning to Bucky. “I don’t suppose you know where we are, do you?”

“You’re in the 100-Mile Wilderness, in Maine. Why don’t you know where you are?” Bucky asked.

“Team bonding,” Steve explained simply. Bucky looked at Steve like he was crazy, but Steve only shrugged. “You wanna help us get out of here?”

Bucky sighed. “You dipshit,” he grumbled. “Where to?”

“Tower,” Tony stated.

“All right,” Bucky grumbled. In the next moment, a strong, smokey wind sucked them all up as Tony made a mad dash to grab his shoes.

~*~

“Aha!” Tony said triumphantly, as the smoke cleared to reveal that he was holding both shoes, with his socks tucked inside.

“So…” Jane said, looking around the living room of the common floor. “We’re home. What now?”

“Do… Should we call Fury?” Bruce asked, looking unsure. After a round of shrugging, Steve opened his mouth, only to be cut off.

“Who the fuck is Fury?” Bucky asked.

“Director Fury,” Steve explained quickly. “He’s in charge. I’ll call.” With that, Steve disappeared into his apartment to grab his cellphone and call Fury.

About an hour and a half of explanation later, Steve returned to the common rooms to find only Tony and Bucky left, with the two of them curled up together on the couch. Steve paused for a moment, then wiggled his way under Tony and Bucky’s feet.

~*~

A few days later found Bucky gone again to go hunting, and Steve and Tony hanging around in Tony’s lab. Steve glanced up from his sketch-- Tony, with his wings neatly folded, leaning over one of his classic European cars’ engine-- with a sudden question.

“Tony?” he said. Tony hummed back after a moment, still focussed on his work. “How did you know not to attack Bucky?”

“His smell,” Tony explained. “He smelled like you. Kind of.”

“What do you mean?” Steve asked.

“He smelled like… like a forest on a sunny day in the middle of winter,” Tony attempted to clarify. “Winter to match your summer. And he smelled like old stuff. And gunpowder. And magic. And blood. Like a faery would, but a faery tied to you.”

“You can smell out soulmates?” It was odd to think about, for Steve. Then again, Tony seemed to heavily rely on his sense of smell to judge people.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Does it work for normal people?”

“Kind of? I can smell out compatibility, but Averages aren’t tied to other people the way Supernaturals are.”

Steve thought about it for a moment. “Do you know what your Soul will smell like?”

Tony was quiet, staring at the engine in front of him. “Fire. Old books. Magic, of course. Coffee. Dark chocolate. Maybe a hint of something metallic. Snow. Mint. Explosives. Maybe a bit of blood.”

“Do you know what your Soul is?”

“No. Too many variables, too many possibilities.”

Steve frowned at his drawing. “I’m sure you’ll find them soon enough.”

Tony chuckled darkly. “Yeah. Sure, Cap.”

Steve pursed his lips and changed tactics a bit. Tony seemed too unhappy alone. “Well, what do you think they’ll be like?”

Tony only sighed and shrugged. “They won’t mind me pampering them. They… there’s a lyric… ‘She’ll know me crazy/ Soothe me daily/ Better yet, she wouldn’t care’. They’ll be just as crazy as me, you know? So, they’ll enjoy my… sudden… work binges. They’ll… be happy with me.”

“It makes sense,” Steve said. “You want to match.”

“Yeah. It’s a bit unlikely that I’ll ever find them,” Tony grumbled.

“You never know,” Steve offered.

Tony snorted. “It’s one in a million, Cap. Maybe worse, considering the fact that Supernaturals are practically extinct.”

Steve stood, walked over to Tony, and pressed a kiss to the dragon’s temple. Steve could feel Tony relax slightly under Steve’s lips. “At the very least, you’ll have your hoard of superheroes.”

Tony chuckled. “Of course.”

~*~

Steve ran his fingers through Bucky’s hair-- longer now, and not tied back in its usual bun-- and thought about what Tony had said.

“Do you know anyone who would get along really well with Tony?” Steve said. “From your travels, I mean.”

Bucky looked up from where his face was firmly smushed against Steve’s pecs, watching his Heart for a moment. “Why?”

“Tony deserves to find his Soul,” Steve stated simply. “You know more Supernaturals than the rest of us, so…”

Bucky considered it quietly. “I don’t know. Maybe Loki?” he offered. “But Loki and Tony as even friends sounds dangerous.”

“... Bucky. We’re a siren and a faery. Half of our bonding time was killing people together,” Steve reminded him. “At worst, Loki and Tony will spend their time blowing things up, then having sex and blowing all of Tony’s money on expensive food, alcohol, and fancy clothes.”

“Touche,” Bucky responded after a pause. “I’ll make sure that they meet next time Loki visits. They’ll be good for each other, even if they aren’t soulmates.”

“Remember that Thor is Loki’s brother, though,” Steve pointed out. “Loki will have to be prepared for that one.”

Bucky sighed and nuzzled his way into comfort against Steve’s chest, staring out the window. “I don’t know how he’ll react to Thor. They seemed to have gotten along when they were younger. But you never know.”

“Hopefully it won’t end horribly,” Steve offered.

Bucky snorted. “Hopefully.”

~*~

Months later, Loki had finally gotten around to speaking to Thor. Thor, of course, was thrilled. Loki was happy, having gone as far as to smile at his shoes whenever Thor said something even mildly positive. Bucky was ecstatic because his precious baby boy, little warrior, still safe from the big evil All-Father, was able to reconnect to something good from an awful childhood.

Steve was happy for Loki and Bucky, really, but for as happy as Tony was to have another person in his treasure trove, it was clear that Tony saw a happy pair of soulmates and realized how much he was missing.

It wasn’t until Tony began talking about the Avengers introducing themselves at the opening of the Stark Expo that it clicked. Steve tapped Bucky’s thigh rapidly while Tony rambled about how it would help the Avengers to be associated with something so positive and how it would bring more people to the Expo, which would mean more money from ticket sales going to different charities.

Bucky looked over, seeming confused. Steve mouthed, ‘Loki, Expo, Soul’ to him, then nodded towards Tony. Bucky thought for a moment, then nodded. ‘He’ll be there,’ Bucky mouthed back.

~*~

Tony, Steve thought, was most in his element here. Here, surrounded by science. Here, with the crowning jewels of his hoard: Pepper Potts, Colonel Rhodes, and the Avengers. Here, as bright, golden light reflected in his eyes. Here, walking among people that looked upon him with unparallelled awe. Here, in an expensive suit, with gold rings littering dancing fingers. Here, it was no wonder that so many people loved him.

The Avengers, following Tony’s lead, managed to charm the crowd to the point of cheering. It, unfortunately, reminded Steve of his days as a showgirl. Then again, Tony managed to play businessman, politician, showgirl, soldier, “hacker”, playboy, and philanthropist, all in one day. Steve worried about exactly how many of those titles he’d have to pick up as head of the Avengers.

After the official opening, the Avengers spoke to anyone from the crowd that could find them. Pictures were taken, hands were shaken, babies were held, and Steve managed to worm his way around the exhibits. He was particularly fond of one of Tony’s personal exhibits, which showed off the prototypes of prosthetics based on the Iron armor.

Before the end of the night, Steve found his way back to behind the main stage. There, Tony perched on a stool, chatting with some of the younger inventors. Tony caught sight of Steve just as the teenagers left.

“Rogers!” he called. “Come here! I’ve got cookies!”

Steve laughed, grabbing a cookie from the table in front of Tony. “Thanks,” he said before taking a bite. Immediately, he recognized Tony’s own recipe. As always, he moaned softly at the taste. “Fuck, these are good.”

Tony beamed. “I thought you’d like them,” he said. “Everyone else, too, of course. But as I figure it, if Captain America likes it, then everyone else will too.”

“By that logic,” Bucky said, appearing at Steve’s shoulder. “Everyone here will love seeing me kill people.”

Tony thought for a moment. “Nazis, sure. Modern-day version of Nazis, too.”

Bucky grinned. “Sounds like fun to me.”

“What sounds like fun?” Loki asked smoothly.

“Killing Nazis,” Bucky and Steve responded in unison.

Loki raised an eyebrow at the two, but only said, “I find that I must agree with you. Mind?” Loki gestured to the cookies.

“Go ahead,” Steve said, quickly realizing that Tony hadn’t stopped staring since Loki showed up.

As with most people, Loki’s reaction to the taste of the cookies was instantaneous. “Norns be blessed, where are these from?”

Tony coughed, finally recovering. “I made them.”

Loki hummed. “Thank you,” he said. He lifted up one of the platters of cookies and walked away with it.

Tony turned to Steve. “Steve. He likes my cookies,” he said urgently. “He smells like magic and coffee and old books and fire and chocolate and mint and metal and snow and explosives and blood and likes my cookies.”

Steve grinned. “It’s him?”

Tony nodded. “He’s…” he said, staring off after Loki.

“Go get him, kid,” Bucky said. Tony stared at Bucky for a moment, then launched himself over the table of cookies to chase Loki down.

Steve watched Tony go, grinning. When he turned around, however, he found Bucky wiping away tears. “Are you okay?” he asked his own Soul.

“Fine,” Bucky said, sniffing. “Ish. Fuck, my baby boy’s growing up and finding his Heart, Stevie.”

“Aww…” Steve said, pulling Bucky into a hug. “I know, Buck. I know. Just let it out…”

**Author's Note:**

> Art by [shutupimcreating](http://shutupimcreating.tumblr.com/), [here](http://shutupimcreating.tumblr.com/post/164334995872/bucky-smiled-at-him-for-a-moment-may-i-kiss) and [here](http://shutupimcreating.tumblr.com/post/164336222757/steve-smiled-all-right-buck-whatever-you-say). Find me on tumblr at [nykolwinters.tumblr](nykolwinters.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Like and/or share the masterpost [here](http://shutupimcreating.tumblr.com/post/164338107913/heart-and-soul-by-super0random0girl-tumblr).


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